


Don't Come Closer

by Siobhane



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Blood and Gore, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Infidelity, Kidnapping, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prisoner of War, Psychological Horror, Psychological Torture, Shitloads of spiders, Starvation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2020-04-24 20:40:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 116,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19180984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siobhane/pseuds/Siobhane
Summary: Rinoa is left to pick up the pieces after Squall is taken hostage and presumed dead.Meanwhile, Seifer uncovers evidence there's a great deal more to the story, and teams up with an unlikely ally to solve the mystery of what really happened to Squall Leonhart.*re-write with new content





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a updated version of the one I originally posted on the account that got deleted a while back. I spent about a month cleaning it up, so If you've read it before, there are a few new scenes and dialogue, and overall cleaner writing, especially the second half - I can tell where I got tired and started racing to the finish line. There were also a couple of plot points that were too subtle and maybe a few readers missed them or forgot about them by the end. Anyway. New stuff. Hope you like it. Kudos and comments are always appreciated.

 

A sliver of orange phosphorescence bled beneath the crack under the door of his cell, the only illumination in the windowless space. They provided him water but nothing else. No food. No protection from the cold but the clothes on his back. All he had were his fraying wits and his will to stay alive.

His boots were wherever his jacket had gone. Without that barrier between his skin and the chill, he would succumb to the elements sooner rather than later. His thin, blood-stained t-shirt and battered, torn cargo pants did nothing to warm his flesh nor his bones. He couldn't feel his toes. His hands flexed sluggishly and his fingertips were numb. Violent shivers passed through his body as it struggled in vain to stay warm.

He would die here in this cell. Soon, if no one came to provide him with a meal and a blanket and a handful of potions to heal his extensive injuries. The cold would creep up on him, chill him to the bone and drain the life out of him. If not the cold, then starvation. He estimated it had been at least three days since he'd last eaten, but maybe longer.

Both were lousy ways to go. Between the two, he preferred cold to starvation. The cold sapped his energy, but hunger was worse. Hunger was already becoming an excruciating, gnawing ache in his gut. The thought of food made him want to scream, plead, beg for something, just the smallest morsel to stave off the misery.

Screaming wouldn't help. No one could hear him down in this hell anyway, and he had no strength to give volume to his protests. As desperate as he was for food and warmth, asking them for anything meant giving in.

Giving in to what, he didn't know. He didn't know what they wanted with him. Even if he had answers, he couldn't give them.

Maybe, he would die of infection. The wound on his leg was inflamed and starting to smell. When he moved it the wrong way, it would split open and bleed anew and soak through his foul, blood-stained cargo pants. If it went unhealed for much longer, it would fester and he would begin to burn from the inside out.

A t least if fever took him, he wouldn't be cold.

It was frustrating to be left without the tools he needed to survive. Out in the open, out there in the frigid mountains of Trabia, he could find a means to survive the punishing cold. He could have found shelter and insulation, built a fire for warmth, hunted something to eat. He knew of a hundred different ways to survive the harsh conditions in the wild. Out there, he had a chance. Here in this cell, he had nothing but a half-frozen jug of water.

Up in the corner, a large, spindly-legged spider wove an intricate web. The damn thing was lucky. There was no shortage of sustenance. It didn't feel the cold. All it had to do was wait and its meal would eventually find itself hapless and tangled in the silken strands of the spider's trap. He envied the spider, but he swore, if it came near him, he would eat the fucking thing.

So, like the spider, he waited. Waited for someone to come. Waited for death. Waited for something to happen.

Every so often, he took a sip from the plastic jug of water, when the pain of hunger became too sharp. Sometimes, he slept to pass away the hours until something happened, but he'd been abandoned. He'd been taken hostage and forgotten. Left here to die slowly.

He didn't know how long he'd been there. Days for sure, but how many? He slept fitfully, but he was also unsure of whether it was only for minutes or hours upon end. There was no daylight and no clock for reference. Just the silence and the spider in the corner and his own thoughts of death and escape and the wife and daughter waiting for him at home. Did they miss him? Was she worried?

He thought about tearing apart the water jug once it was empty, to use as a means of ending this torment. There was no guarantee the plastic would be sharp enough, and the idea of sawing through skin and connective tissue seemed more painful and more trouble than it was worth.

But he wanted to go on his own terms. Not from the cold or starvation or infection. He would go down fighting. A blade in his hand. Swinging until his heart stopped beating. No other death would suffice. Not for him.

* * *

 _Hostage_.

That was a word no wife ever wanted to hear. Not the wife of a sailor and not the wife of a SeeD. There was something so terrifying about it, maybe even more terrifying than _dead_  because at least death was final.

Across from her, Cid was speaking but not a word of it reached her ears. She stopped listening the second Quistis said he was missing in action, a possible prisoner of war.

Rinoa had always known this was something she might someday have to face, especially in the early days when Squall was gone six months of the year on missions, but as time went by, those missions were fewer and fewer until the fear all but died. For more than a year, the only missions Squall participated in were those of a diplomatic nature and to oversee the occasional field exam. He was home most nights by six and off almost every weekend.

This was supposed to be a short, two day training exercise in Trabia. That was it. There was no threat, no real risk and nothing to worry about.

Rinoa hadn't worried. She hadn't even thought about it. Not until she looked at the clock and realized Squall was late. It was just an hour, but he normally called when he was running a few minutes behind.

Only an hour, but that hour that turned into two and then four and then a whole day while she waited for word that didn't come.

They'd been delayed. That was all they would say and now they were telling her Squall was a POW.

What war? She didn't understand. There was no war.

Galbadia still had its issues, and Esthar too, but this was a time of peace as far as she knew.

Then again, she wasn't allowed to know what was going on at Garden unless it affected her directly. That angered her in the beginning, but she made her peace with it a long time ago. Not knowing still kept her up at night, but she no longer felt left out. Until now.

Her whole body trembled at the thought of her husband held captive. Her mind went to the darkest places, imagining torture and pain and mistreatment at the hands of his captors. People hurting him. Making him scream. She squeezed her eyes shut at the thought of what they might do. What they could do.

What Seifer had done to him once upon a time.

Squall fought his way out of D-District like a champ. He'd been put through hell and never uttered a word of complaint. He'd been an exhausted, nauseous, half broken mess afterwards, but he fought through it with shaking limbs and a cold sweat on his brow without so much as a whimper.

Afterwards, once they were safe, he vomited twice and then passed out in the back seat of the vehicle with his head in her lap. But he survived. He lived through it.

Cid was being coy with the details. He talked around the subject and repeated himself. Rinoa wanted answers and nothing Cid was saying gave her those answers.

"Who?  _Who_  has him?"

"We don't know," Cid said.

"You don't know? How can you not know?"

Her voice sounded hysterical to her own ears. They all looked at her with pity, like they knew Squall was already a lost cause and she hadn't caught onto that fact. A steady beat began in her ears and her eyes burned with angry tears.

"No one has made any demands for ransom," Quistis said . "No one has claimed responsibility. We won't know until they speak up."

"Yeah, all's they sent was that video," Zell said. " Like, they beat the crap out of him, Rin. It was pretty hard to watch."

"Zell!" Quistis cried. "I told you not to say anything."

Zell shrugged one shoulder and glared at Quistis.

"I didn't agree to keep quiet about it."

"That's insubordination, Zell."

"Think I care?" Zell asked. His cheeks burned hot pink. "Y'all sent us on a suicide mission. At this point, I don't give a chocobo's ass if you fire me or not. The rest of us were lucky to make it back alive."

A freshly healed scar sliced across Zell's forehead, from hairline to temple. Something had cut him deep, leaving behind a permanent reminder of whatever it was they'd endured.

It must have been bad. Zell had a temper, but it was seldom directed at his friends unless they truly deserved it. For him to lose his temper with Quistis said a lot more than anything else.

"I want to see it," Rinoa said. "I want to see it right now."

"That's not a good idea, Rinoa," Quistis said.

"I don't care. _I want to see it_."

"Rinoa, it's not in your best interest -"

"You don't get to decide what's in my best interest," Rinoa said. "I can handle it and I  _need_  to see it."

Zell slid down down the couch to Rinoa's side. The polished leather squeaked against the fabric of his jeans. His hand was warm and welcome in hers.

Quistis loaded a disk into the player and switched on the screen. Rinoa shivered and held Zell's hand tight. She didn't want to see it. Not really, but she needed to. Being left in the dark to imagine the worst was probably worse than not seeing it with her own two eyes.

"Before you watch this," Zell said, "just remember Squall's tough. He can take it."

Rinoa looked at her friend carefully. Zell's eyes misted over and the emotion in his voice tugged at her heart. It was worse than she imagined. She could tell that much just by looking at him.

"But you're tough, too," Zell said and squeezed her hand. "You can handle it."

She wanted to say thanks, but could only give him a weak smile in return.

A grainy and out of focus image filled the screen. All she could make out was a slumped figure on their knees, arms strung up toward the ceiling by chains.

Her heart beat faster and the throb of suppressed magic heated her blood. She didn't need to see his face to know it was him.

The focus sharpened and the captive was bathed in the glow of a flashlight beam. His swollen eyes squeezed shut and he flinched like he'd been struck. His bare arms were dirty and covered in bruises, his filthy white shirt spattered with brown and rust. Blood flowed freely from one nostril, down over his lips, and dripped from his chin.

Rinoa covered her mouth to suppress a cry. He could barely hold his head up.

_"...I'm not telling you shit."_

His voice was weak and unsteady. His lower lip and jaw trembled.

_"Tell us where she is and this will all be over."_

_"...she can't help you."_

_"Where is she?"_

_"Go fuck yourself."_

Flickers of electricity raced down the chains and into Squall's arms. He shook violently and uncontrollably, his eyes rolling back into his head as his body thrashed for nearly a minute. Saliva and tears mingled with blood and spilled down his neck.

Rinoa screamed behind clenched teeth, her hands clamped over her mouth. The Odine Bangle on her wrist burned against her skin, furious magic itching to avenge her Knight.

Zell's arm slipped around her shoulder and Rinoa leaned into his side. She wanted to bury her face against him, to turn away from the horror of seeing Squall in pain, but she couldn't look away. She had to see this. She needed to know everything, no matter how horrible or heartbreaking.

Squall lifted his head to look directly at the camera. Dark strands of dirty, stringy, and matted hair dangled in front of his blue eyes. Those blue eyes had looked at her with wonder and anger and affection and frustration, but never with hatred or disgust.

That was what she saw in them now as he glared at the camera and it chilled her to the bone. He looked like a man who had lost his soul, a man without a heart, without remorse, and she wondered who was on the other side of that camera.

Beads of sweat rolled down Squall's face, and in the beam of the flashlight, they glistened gold, amber, and vermilion where they mingled with blood. He blinked and shook his hair out of his eyes. Hatred melted to sorrow and then to a look he gave her only when they were alone.

 _"Broccoli pie,"_  Squall said.

His lip quivered, his voice was broken, but the faintest smile crossed his lips and Rinoa's heart slipped a beat. She wiped her eyes, wanting to laugh and cry at the same time. It was a message.

Not long after they'd moved in together, Rinoa attempted to make a pot pie for dinner. It was cold outside and it seemed like the kind of hearty comfort food they would both enjoy at the end of a long, chilly day. She'd made the crust perfectly, but had gotten distracted by a long-winded phone call from a sobbing Selphie and forgot to put any other ingredients in the pie shell besides the broccoli.

The result was inedible. Squall found it so funny, he laughed quietly to himself for hours afterward. Rinoa, annoyed by his amusement at her expense, smashed the offensive pastry over his head, which only made him laugh harder.

Since then,  _Broccoli Pie_  was their code for an epic screw-up. Sometimes, they would say it to make the other laugh in the middle of an argument. Sometimes it was a signal that something had gone too far.

Was Squall telling her he screwed up? Or was he saying that he was okay, not to worry?

Hard to tell, but it gave her some small measure of hope that he would survive this. He'd known she would see the video, and this message was for her alone.

A club of some sorts smashed into the top of Squall's head and Rinoa screamed. Blood poured down his face, his eyes went unfocused and misty, and this time, she was forced to look away. She pressed her face into Zell's shoulder and something inside her broke when his other arm came up to hold her tighter.

"That's all there is," Zell said. "There's no more."

Rinoa tried to get a hold of herself. She tried to stop shaking but between her growing fury and her fear for Squall's life, she  _couldn't_. Zell stroked her back and whispered things she didn't hear to calm her, but panic pushed her to a state of near-hysteria.

"Tell me you're trying to find him," she said.

"We don't know where to look," Quistis said.

"You don't know where to look, so you're not going to bother?" Rinoa said. "He's spent his whole life serving Garden and SeeD. You  _owe_  him."

Quistis turned her head away, stricken by the accusation. Cid stared at the blotter on his desk, a man who yet again had nothing to offer in a time of crisis.

She would not be put off or take no for an answer. She wouldn't allow him to be abandoned or left behind. Whatever the cost, she would find a way, and if they left her with no other options, she would find him herself.

"We sent a search party to Squall's last known location," Cid promised. "They haven't reported anything substantial back yet."

Quistis took a seat next to Rinoa and clasped the hand Zell was not holding.

"We're doing what we can," Quistis said. "Until they make their agenda known or tell us who they are and what they want, we don't have much to go on."

"That's not good enough," Rinoa said.

The only thing that would be good enough for her was for Squall to be home safe and alive. He had a daughter at home anxiously awaiting his return. A daughter who adored him. A daughter he loved more than anything else in the world. Not to mention a wife that missed his warmth and his touch and the smile he reserved only for her.

"We want him home, too," Quistis swore.

"What happened?" Rinoa demanded. "How did this happen? It was just supposed to be some routine training thing, right?"

"It was supposed to be," Zell said. "Except someone forgot to warn us about the radical insurgents or whatever the hell they were."

"We don't know what they were," Quistis said. "All we know is they attacked without provocation and Squall was taken. He might have been the reason for the attack, for all we know."

"Put me on the Ragnarok, drop me off wherever they are, and I'll make sure none of them ever see a sunrise again," Rinoa swore.

"I know you're upset, but you have to think of Ella," Quistis said. "It won't do her any good to have both of you gone right now."

"I can't just sit here!"

She had to do something besides sit and wait.

"She's right," Zell said. "But I promise you, we'll bring him home, one way or another."

Dead or alive.

That's what Zell really meant. He didn't say it and he didn't need to. The words started spinning around in Rinoa's head like leaves on the wind. The words got louder and louder and there was nothing she could do to block them out.

_Dead or alive. Dead or alive. Dead or alive._

They sounded like an unbalanced load of laundry in the washing machine, getting louder and louder as the misplaced clothing spun the machine further and further off balance until the whole house seemed to shake. It had a cadence to it, a drum beat, a bleat of machine gun fire.

She put her hands to her head to block it out.

On her wrist, the Odine Bangle she wore to protect the world from her magic shattered into a thousand pieces, glittering like faerie dust in the lamplight.


	2. Chapter 2

_...her fingers follow the lines of old wounds with a tenderness that resonates all through him. The scars are a map of his past, of their past, and she has scars of her own. Some from battle, some from a car accident as a child, but every single one is beautiful to him. They tell him who she is and remind him of how far they've come and of all the things they survived together._

_He hasn't feared her touch in half a decade and he was a fool to fear it in the first place._

_In the late afternoon sun, colored light pours through the stained glass rosette above. Their bodies are tattooed blue and gold and red and green and the colors reflect in her dark, loving eyes._

_He was an idiot to be afraid of this – it is the best thing in his world, and he can't imagine living without it._

_When she smiles up at him, he smiles back without hesitation. Her hair is painted in violet and blue and he wants to remember her this way forever, to stay here in this strange little place that smells of raw cedar and dust and leather. This is their first real vacation together since their honeymoon 4 years ago, and Squall wishes it could always be this easy and relaxed._

_"I want windows like this," she murmurs as her eyes swim with color. "I want one in every room."_

_He nuzzles her neck and smiles against her jaw as her fingers twine through his hair. He doesn't agree or disagree. He knows her well enough to know she'll forget about it if this is a passing fancy, and he knows if it isn't, she'll make it happen, one way or another. That is one of many, many things about her that are as frustrating as they are endearing._

_"I need to tell you something," she says softly._

_He raises his head to meet her eyes and expects bad news. He can sense the anxiety fluttering in her stomach and she looks away, shy and ashamed._

_"What's wrong?"_

_"Nothing's really wrong," she says and bites her lip. "But... I'm pregnant."_

_He reels back from her and stares, uncomprehending. He is unsure of how to feel about this or what he's supposed to say. The were careful. They took precautions._

_They talked about children in the abstract, and it is something he's worried about since they got married, but not because he doesn't want kids. He wants a family, more than he ever imagined he would, but he fears he will be a terrible father or that he will inadvertently repeat his father's mistakes. He worries that he will die on a mission and leave them fatherless._

_The longer he says nothing, the more visibly worried she becomes. Her frown deepens, her forehead creases and in her eyes is a silent plea for understanding._

_"Are you sure?"_

_"Yeah," she says. "I'm sure, and don't you dare ask if it's yours, you meanie."_

_This surprises a smile out of him. As if it was in doubt. But..._

_"Are you upset?" she asks._

_"No," he promises._

_He brushes his fingertips over her abdomen. Hard to imagine that a piece of them both lay beneath her smooth, flat stomach. Hard to picture himself in the near future picking out cribs and changing diapers._

_"You don't look happy," she says._

_"Neither do you," he says._

_"Truth?" she asks._

_"Truth."_

_"I'm terrified," she says. "Can you imagine a little me or you that can't talk or feed itself or do anything but poop and cry?"_

_Squall returns to her side, her face bathed in gold and crimson, and he grins as he kisses her forehead._

_"You're going to be a terrible mother," he teases, but he doesn't mean it._

_"You might be right," she says. "I mean, half the time I don't know where my keys are. How am I supposed to keep track of an entire baby?"_

_It's Squall's turn to worry. That she's going to take it back. Change her mind. He won't stop her if she wants something different, if she's not ready, but that part of him that has always secretly longed for a family screams please, please, please._

_He trails a finger over her cheekbone. A thumb over her lips. Silences her._

_"I need a few days to get used to the idea," he says, "but I think we can handle it."_

_"Yeah?"_

_He smiles. "Yeah."_

* * *

"I'm just emotional," Rinoa swore. "I'm not going to flip out."

Nobody listened. Rinoa was fine. She was.

Not even Zell took her at her word that she wasn't in the midst of a meltdown. Everyone looked at her like she was about to tear apart the fabric of time and space when really, she just wanted to find a dark corner and cry her eyes out. She was not going to go psycho and light Cid on fire for his attempt to shield her from the truth.

Even though, maybe, she wanted to. Just a little.

"Just a precaution," Dr. Kadowaki promised. The woman held up a finger and instructed Rinoa to follow it. "Any headaches? Strange dreams?"

"Nothing," Rinoa said. "I've broken bangles before, you know."

"You have," Dr. Kadowaki agreed. "But you've never pulverized one into dust."

The older woman switched on a pen light and instructed Rinoa to look up a the ceiling, left, right, and down.

Because of what she was, Rinoa was required to submit to a thorough examination quarterly to prove to Cid, Squall, and the world at large that she wasn't about to become a dangerous psychopath. So far, it proved more a hassle than a precaution. Rinoa figured, if she was going to flip out, she would flip and no medical exam or magical device would be able predict or stop it.

Normal one minute, psychotic megalomaniac the next.

History was rife with Sorceresses that lived normal, boring lives until they didn't. The transcripts and lore of the past did not usually indicate whether a particular event caused them to crack. Many were good women until they weren't. Few were named in history books as benevolent or generous or particularly kind. The majority of known Sorceresses were called tyrant and dictator and fascist. Cruel and sociopathic and terrifying.

Rinoa wanted to believe she was not of their ilk, but there were too many that lived average, mundane, domestic lives, then woke up one day with a taste for destruction.

Of course there were others that never made the history books. Women who lived ordinary lives as healers and midwives and community leaders. Women who never willingly harmed another soul. Women who hid what they were. She could be like them.

Odine Bangles were effective to a degree, but not fool-proof. They couldn't prevent her from turning if that was what her power dictated, but under normal conditions they kept it from overwhelming her. Wearing the bracelet, Rinoa's magical abilities were more akin to those of an experienced and junctioned SeeD and less likely to manifest in strange or scary ways.

She could cast magic if she wanted to, but she didn't need to anymore. Not often, anyway, unless it was to heal up Ella's skinned knees or Squall's occasional forgotten wound from training. Rinoa refrained from much else. Doing so so left her with a sensation akin to an unsatisfied craving that would not go away. She described it once as wanting ice cream and being served boiled cabbage instead.

If she were honest, it was closer to not quite reaching climax, of being teased almost to the brink, and then having your lover roll over and start snoring. The aftermath was a frustration Rinoa did not like dealing with. The dissatisfaction could last for hours or days and it was cumulative. If she cast more than a handful of spells in a short period of time, the frustration would compound itself and she would grow agitated over small things or pace the house without direction.

A few times, Squall was forced to take her out into the plains, bangle-free to let loose on a few monsters to get it out of her system. Her anxiety infected him like poison and a thorough display of over-powered magical attacks was the antidote. It was extremely effective, but sometimes scary. Sometimes, the amount and strength of magic she could cast unsettled both of them. Squall never needed to tell her how unnerving it was for him to watch her go nuts and blast everything that moved.

Previously, she had broken two other bangles. The first was when she was in labor with Ella, the second when her grandfather passed away from a sudden stroke.

A third shattered like shards of glass while she washed dishes, but that was a defect and not a sign she was about to come unhinged. A series of hairline cracks caused it to break, not magic. This one was the fourth, and as far as Rinoa was concerned, justified and definitely not a sign she was about to go all crazy tyrant and burn Garden to the ground.

"Your blood pressure is a little high," Dr. Kadowaki said as she slipped a heavy, inflatable cuff down Rinoa's arm. "But, under the circumstances, I don't think it's a concern."

Rinoa blinked back tears at the reminder of her circumstances. Squall was missing in action. A hostage. Circumstances seemed like a pretty way to dress up the terrible reality that her husband might not be coming home.

She was not going to cry in front of the doctor. Crying didn't help anything. It wouldn't bring Squall home and it wouldn't keep him safe. What she needed to do was find a way to Trabia. She could help, if they let her. Even if they didn't, she had to go. Sitting around waiting for news was not Rinoa's style and it never would be. She had to do something. Take action, assist with the search. Something. Anything but sit at home and wait.

"Pending the blood tests, everything checks out," Dr. Kadowaki said. "Just remember, staying in control means managing your emotions and staying calm -"

"My husband is missing," Rinoa cut in. "How am I supposed to be calm about that?"

"I can prescribe a tranquilizer for now," the doctor said. "A mild dose to take the edge off and help you sleep."

"I don't want it," Rinoa said.

"Maybe not, but you need it, Rinoa," Dr. Kadowaki said gently. The older woman sat down and took her hands. "I know this is difficult. I know you're afraid and worried and I know from past experience, you tend to make less well thought out decisions under stress. The tranquilizers will help manage both the magic and your worries."

That was a nice way of saying they were going to dope her up to keep her from setting something on fire. They wanted to drug her so she stayed out of the way. Drugged, she would be docile and less likely to get herself into trouble. She knew the score. They all thought she was impulsive and reckless and it was probably at Cid's request that she be kept complacent.

Rinoa didn't argue further. She would accept the prescription and then flush it down the toilet when she got home. No one needed to know she decided not to take them.

"And do me a favor," Dr. Kadowaki said. "Don't go running off to save him just yet. Let the search and rescue team do their jobs. If there's anything to find, they'll find it. You just have to trust that they're doing everything they can."

"It's not enough," she said. "I could-"

"I know you want to help and be involved, but your job right now is to take care of yourself and your daughter. If for some reason, they don't find anything, perhaps an arrangement can be made. Until then, manage things here."

Rinoa looked away from Dr. Kadowaki. She planned to force her way into the search, one way or another. Dr. Kadowaki knew her better than she thought.

"I see the wheels turning in your head," the doctor said gently. "Just make sure you really think things through before doing something that might get both of you killed."

The doctor let go of her hand and got up to write in Rinoa's file. Rinoa turned the doctor's advice over and over in her head, like turning a coin over and over in her fingers. Heads, she stayed. Tails, she went.

Dr. Kadowaki's advice was sound. Rational. Two things Rinoa struggled to be in times like these. Following her heart came natural and in the heat of the moment, she would always choose what her heart told her to do above what was reasonable or smart.

Right now, her heart told her Squall needed her.

"Please call me if you start to experience anything unusual," Dr. Kadowaki said. "Nightmares, hallucinations, panic attacks, dizzy spells. Anything that isn't normal, please let me know. And, I'll be here if you just need to talk. You can call or visit any time, of course. You know my door is always open for you."

"Sure," Rinoa agreed. "I'll do that."

"Go have a seat and I'll fill your prescription," the doctor said. "Zell will drive you home."

"I'm perfectly capable of driving myself."

"It's just a precaution," the doctor assured her. "I know you're stronger than most people think you are, Rinoa. I never doubted that for a second." The older woman flashed an ironic smile. "You'd have to be formidable in your own way to take on the likes of Squall Leonhart in a test of sheer stubbornness and actually win. So humor me, will you? Make an old lady feel like she's done her doctorly duty and stop fighting me on this."

When she put it that way, Rinoa's couldn't argue back. Dr. Kadowaki was on her side. Her primary interest was in keeping Rinoa on the straight and narrow, healthy and out of trouble. There were no ulterior motives, just a doctor doing her job.

"Zell should be down in a few minutes," Dr. Kadowaki said.

"Probably getting lectured for telling me the truth," Rinoa said.

"If that boy could just learn to keep his mouth shut, he'd be a lot better off."

Rinoa doubted she would know as much as she did if Zell stayed quiet. She doubted they would have told her anything at all. Rinoa owed him her gratitude for being honest enough to make sure she was not kept in the dark. Otherwise, Cid would have glossed it over or left out important details.

When Zell arrived, he was less shame-faced than angry, and spoiling for a fight. Rinoa wondered what happened behind closed doors. He said nothing as she followed him down the hall to the garage but she could sense the anger rolling off him like waves on a turbulent sea.

Halfway home, Rinoa made him stop the car so she could throw up.

On her hands and knees outside the car door, she waited for the nausea to pass but it didn't. It came in waves of sickness that was all twisted up with the blind panic that hadn't left her since Quistis had uttered the word hostage.

Zell knelt beside her and wiped her face clean without batting an eye. He let her collect herself, then helped her back into her seat. There were no empty words of comfort or sympathy, just his silent act of kindness.

It was better that he said nothing. Rinoa didn't want to hear lies or platitudes. Not from anyone.

She stepped inside the house to the familiar music of Ella's favorite movie coming from the family room. Ella watched the movie so often, she knew every word of dialogue and every note of music by heart, but that didn't stop her from wanting to watch it again and again and again.

It should have comforted Rinoa to hear something so familiar but it didn't. It made her think of how Squall had patiently endured the movie with Ella in his lap, even though the repetition drove him crazy.

Over the music, Rinoa heard Selphie's high, clear voice mingle with Ella's. They both sang the words with gusto, Selphie's enthusiasm for the silly song as great as Ella's. Rinoa dropped her purse in the hallway and kicked off her shoes before she went in to greet her daughter. She needed a minute before she could face Selphie or Ella.

Crying in front of Selphie wasn't a big deal. Hyne knew she'd done it a hundred times over the years, but she didn't want Ella to see her lose it. No matter what, she had to be strong for Ella and that meant no crying. She could not behave as if her whole world had crumbled to pieces all around her, even if it had.

"I'll make you some tea," Zell said. "Or do you want something stronger?"

"Strong," Rinoa said. "Please."

Ella was in Selphie's lap, blue eyes fixed on the television, captivated by the animation. Rinoa was momentarily distracted by the circle of rainbow colored light cast by the stained glass window on the back wall. The evening sun melted through it and flooded the room with a dazzling array of color that never failed to enchant her.

She'd once wanted one in every room, but there were only two. One in this room, the other in their bedroom. Squall found them at an auction in Deling City and surprised her with them as an anniversary gift a year ago.

Hyne, how he loved her.

On the couch, Selphie clapped her hands as the Chocobo on screen raced up the hill to catch up with his friends.

"Stelly-belly," Rinoa said from the doorway. "You're watching this again?"

"Mommy!" Ella shrieked. She jumped to her feet and crossed the family room floor in a blur of pink and pale cream and inky black. Selphie had let Ella wear her tutu, even though it was only supposed to be for ballet class. "It's Auntie Seffie's favorite movie too!"

"So I hear," Rinoa said. "Did you have fun?"

"Yup. Auntie Seffie knows all the words to  _Yellow is the Best Color_ ," Ella said. "Just like daddy!"

Rinoa didn't know whether to cry or smile about that. Did her quiet, stoic, and serious husband sing with Ella when Rinoa was out of ear-shot?

Squall would do something like that. She pictured him pushing aside his embarrassment for Ella's sake and secretly enjoying it because it made Ella happy.

"Daddy sings with you?"

"All the time," Ella said.

Squall had only sung for Rinoa once, after he drank too much at one of Zell's beach keggers years ago. Alcohol brought out a combination of chattiness and good humor he lacked when he was sober, and he'd bellowed out, word for word, Julia Heartilly's most famous tune on their walk home.

_...Rinoa is not surprised to know he can't carry a tune, and that was funny, but it's even funnier that he doesn't care if anyone hears._

_"I should get you drunk more often," she says. "Drunk Squall is fun."_

_"Are you saying Sober Squall is boring?"_

_"Sober Squall has his merits," Rinoa says. "Plenty of them. It's just that Drunk Squall does things Sober Squall would never do."_

_"Such as?"_

_"Sober Squall would never, ever make out with me in public or do beer funnels with Zell, or fall off his bar stool," Rinoa says, teasing his bottom lip with a fingertip. "And he would never, ever let all of Balamb know that he knows all the words to Eyes on Me at three in the morning."_

_"Sober Squall sounds boring," he slurs._

_"Some people think so," she says._

_"What about Drunk Rinoa?" he asks. "What does she think?"_

_"Drunk Rinoa wants to take Drunk Squall home and do some very naughty things to him."_

_A wide, toothy grin lights up his whole face and one eyebrow hitches skyward. He only smiles like this when he's drunk. Such a shame. It's a beautiful smile._

_The rest of the time, his smiles are reserved and purposely bland._

_He has no idea how precious he is. Or how endearing that big, wide grin is._

_Rinoa grabs hold of his belt and pulls him in for a kiss. Had she done this to him sober, he would have blushed furiously and pulled away like she'd hit him. Drunk, he kisses her back eagerly and pushes her against the wall beside weapons shop..._

The thought of what came after that made Rinoa's eyes sting.

She shook it off and returned her attention to her daughter.

It didn't help. She saw Squall's features in Ella's face, a miniature feminine copy of Squall himself. His goofy, drunken smile was her every day smile. Unlike her father, her smiles were not guarded or reserved only for moments when alcohol induced lack of inhibition.

Ella's smile fell away and cool blue eyes regarded her with suspicion.

"Where's Daddy?"

"He's still at work, sweetie," Rinoa said.

She struggled to keep her voice from breaking as she lied to her daughter about Squall's whereabouts. It wasn't the lie that hurt, but the raw disappointment in Ella's face combined with the understanding that he could very well be in danger.

"You've got paint on your face, Stelly-belly," Rinoa said. She stuck her thumb in her mouth to wet it and attempted to remove the purple streak from Ella's forehead. "Go wash it off, okay? And then we'll decide what we're having for dinner."

"Pizza!"

"We'll see," Rinoa said. "Go, wash. And put your tutu away. You know that's only for class."

"I wanted to show Selphie," Ella said. "I wanted her to see how pretty it is."

"Selphie's seen it a hundred times, kiddo," Rinoa reminded her. "Now go."

Ella skipped off toward the bathroom. Her pink tutu swished around her thighs as her bare feet thudded across the carpet. Rinoa pressed a hand to her stomach and let out a heavy breath as she felt the false front and brave face she'd put on for Ella slip away.

"Thanks for watching her, Selphie," she said. She switched off the movie and turned to her friend. "I really appreciate it."

"No problem at all," Selphie promised. "It's so much fun hanging out with her, and she's a great kid."

"Yeah, for you," Rinoa said. "Don't let her fool you."

Ella was a sweet girl, but she had a stubborn streak a mile wide. She came by it honestly, as both her parents were pig-headed and tenacious in their own way. When Ella got something in her head, she was determined to do it and there was no changing her course once she was committed.

That had an upside in that Ella loved to read and learn new things, and she would pursue information until she exhausted every source she could find. The downside was that it led to things like digging holes in the yard in search of dinosaur bones and hiding eggs from the kitchen under her bed to see if they hatched.

Rinoa had once come home to find both Selphie and her daughter sitting in a puddle of mud, panning for gold that wasn't there.

Selphie looked Rinoa over and her smile faded.

"Oh, Rinny," Selphie said. "You look sick. What happened?"

Rinoa shook her head, unable to name the puppy. If she said it out loud or explained, it might make it real, a truth she might have to accept, and right now, that was too much.

From the kitchen came the whistle of the tea kettle, the clank of ceramic against ceramic and the bang of a cabinet door.

Rinoa followed the sound. Selphie trailed behind and repeated her question, but Rinoa couldn't answer it. Not yet. Her throat ached and her mouth was dry and there was nothing she could say that would adequately explain any of this.

Zell had not only made tea, he'd prepared sandwiches, too. Something about that made the tears Rinoa held back overflow and there wasn't a thing she could do to stop them. She wrapped her arms around her middle as she suppressed a wail of grief behind closed lips.

"Aww, Rin," Zell murmured and wrapped her up in a tight hug. "Don't cry. It's gonna be okay."

"Is this because I let Ella paint?" Selphie asked in a small voice. "We didn't mean to get it on the couch."

Rinoa couldn't have cared less about the couch. Any other day, any other time, she might have been annoyed or even angry, but the couch was the very least of her concerns. They could have set it on fire for all Rinoa cared.

"Squall's been taken hostage," Zell supplied. "We don't know where he is."

"What?!" Selphie cried. "What happened?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

It only made Rinoa cry harder. Selphie joined the embrace and hugged Rinoa from behind too tightly to comfortably breathe, but as Selphie laid her head against Rinoa's back, it felt like the embrace was the only thing preventing her from splintering to dust, too.

She had to keep it together. She could not afford to go to pieces.

Rinoa broke away when Ella thundered down the stairs. She wiped her tears with the sleeve of her shirt and turned away from her friends to collect herself. Zell watched her carefully, no doubt monitoring her at Kadowaki's request for any sign she might flip. If he saw anything to be concerned about, he didn't say so, but the dark worry didn't leave his face.

Ella bounded into the kitchen and threw her arms around Zell's legs.

"Hey there, bud," he greeted. "Want a sandwich? I've got peanut butter and jelly and ham and cheese."

"Jelly!"

"Good choice," he said. He put a diagonally cut sandwich half on a paper plate and sat Ella down at the table. "Eat up, squirt. Want some juice?"

"Can I have the red kind?"

Rinoa should be the one doing this. She should be the one pouring the juice and making the sandwiches, but she couldn't find it in herself to step in and do it. She owed Zell a great deal for handling the things she should be doing herself.

As if he read her thoughts, Zell offered her a small smile and handed her a mug of tea. The odor of liquor wafted up from the cup and overpowered the floral notes of chamomile and lavender.

"Don't sweat it," he said. He pushed a ham and cheese sandwich on a paper plate at her. "You'd do the same for me. Go, sit, eat."

"I'm not really hungry."

"Eat anyway," Zell said. "Can't be anything left in your stomach after you yacked in the ditch and you're gonna need your strength."

He was right. It wouldn't help Squall and it wouldn't do her any favors. She had a house and a business to run, a young daughter and a mess of bills to pay. She needed every store of energy she had to get through the days to come.

Rinoa picked at her sandwich and listened to Ella and Selphie chatter back and forth about a variety of topics but only half-listened. Ballet classes. Chocobos. Stickers. Glitter. It didn't matter. It helped distract Rinoa from the horrible and overwhelming fear that Squall wasn't coming home. If she wasn't careful, it would swallow her whole.

It wasn't until they were done eating and Ella was sent to the family room with a box of crayons and a handful of paper with instructions from Selphie to draw her a bunch of pictures that they could talk freely.

The meal had done nothing to settle Rinoa's stomach, but the scent of the rum and honey spiked tea took the edge off. She wrapped her hands around the cup and stared into it and wished this was a nightmare she would wake up from.

"What happened, Zell?" Rinoa finally asked. "You were there. Tell me how things went down."

Zell looked reluctant to share that information, but his face twisted into a scowl and he got up to throw away the paper plates.

"I shouldn't tell you," he said. "I got demoted for spilling the beans about the video, but I don't care. You deserve the truth."

* * *

Zell took the bottle of rum from the cabinet and set it on the table, then re-joined Rinoa and Selphie. Under the table, his knee bounced a mile a minute and his fingers drummed against the bottle, a ball of nervous energy. He was nearly as scared for Squall as Rinoa was. Squall was pretty much his best friend besides Rinoa and the thought of what the guy was going though made him sick to his stomach.

Rinoa put on a brave face and tried to be tough, but Zell saw right through it and his heart went out to her. He owed her the truth, even if Cid didn't seem to think she deserved it.

"This doesn't get back to Cid," Zell said. "I'll tell you what I know, but please don't tell him you heard it from me, okay?"

"Promise," Rinoa said.

"I never see Cid anymore, so your secret's safe with me," Selphie said.

Zell toyed with his hair for a moment and tugged on a strand that had fallen from his usual spiky up-do as he tried to decide where to begin. There wasn't all that much to tell, and he doubted there were any details that might help Rinoa search if she decided to take off, but it was better to tell her the truth. All of it.

"We were just going through drills," Zell finally said. "It wasn't anything special, you know? It was like, stuff from our cadet days. Formations and stuff. Squall and I both had teams, and we're running around out in the snow fighting monsters and stuff for a few hours. No big deal, right? Then, the wind picked up and the snow started to come down really hard. Couldn't see anything."

Zell poured a measure of rum into his empty tea cup and took a swallow.

It had truly been like the sky opened up. One second, the day was clear but cold with not a cloud in the sky, and the next they were right smack in the middle of the worst blizzard Zell had ever seen.

Nobody could see more than two feet in front of their face in the heavy snowfall. The lack of visibility and the force of the arctic wind made it hard to fight and eventually, Squall called for an end to the training. The point of being there was not to see how much fun fighting monsters in driving snow was but to reacquaint themselves and their teams with basic techniques, drills, and formations, a sort of back-to-basics session for everyone.

They agreed to meet about a half mile from Trabia Garden to regroup. Everyone arrived without incident.

"Then, out of nowhere, there are these guys all dressed in white, to blend in with the snow, I figure," Zell said. "They attacked and we fought, but there were like twelve of us and fifty of them. And they were good. Really good. They knew what they were doing, too. They split us up, made it so we couldn't see each other and could only communicate thorough our comm devices."

It was Rinoa's turn to help herself to a drink. Zell waited while she poured some into her tea cup and he watched his friend's weary, scared face as she struggled to keep it together. Zell worried that she might crack, but after a minute of close observation, he decided she was reasonably stressed and upset, not on the verge of going berserk.

Rinoa was a good person. Zell had nothing to fear, even if everyone else believed she would eventually become a monster.

They'd kept tabs on one another through the whole exercise, but once they'd been split up, Squall stopped answering or calling out locations. Zell had broken off from his group to go see what was up but Squall was nowhere to be seen. The snow was coming down so hard, Zell could barely see more his own feet. Still, he fought through it and took the attackers down as they came, and searched the snow for any sign of the Commander.

He remembered thinking of Rinoa then. What she might do if Squall died. How she might react to the news. He had not imagined a POW scenario, even as he'd plowed his way through insurgents one at a time. If Squall wasn't answering his comm, Zell figured he was either badly hurt or dead.

Due to the limited visibility, Zell had not seen the attacker that nearly chopped his head off until a second too late.

The man had a huge sword, and he had aimed for Zell's neck. Zell ducked in time to avoid beheading, but the edge of the blade had found purchase in Zell's forehead. He hadn't felt the pain at first, but blood ran in rivers down his face and left him temporarily blind in one eye. He couldn't see a damn thing between the blizzard and the blood, but he continued his search for Squall between fending off attacks.

As quickly as it had began the wind died and the snow stopped falling. Every last attacker was gone, bodies included, as though they hadn't been there in the first place. Zell, now dizzy and feeling the full effect of having his head sliced open, continued his search to no avail. It was as though Squall had vanished.

Zell wiped a hand over his face and closed his eyes for a second before he continued.

"So I'm about to pass out 'cause I'm bleeding everywhere, but this Trabian guy calls me over and there's just a shitload of blood on the ground and... Squall's necklace."

He fished around in his pocket and retrieved a thick chain with the Griever emblem on it. He laid it on the table in front of Rinoa and her hands seized upon it like it was a lifeline. The chain was broken, but the necklace was otherwise intact. She clutched it to her chest and looked up at Zell with silent gratitude.

"He was injured?" she asked.

"Pretty bad from the looks of it," Zell said. "He was alive in the tape. Don't forget that."

Rinoa nodded and clasped the necklace to her chest.

"Anyway, I found out in debriefing these guys have been terrorizing half of Trabia and parts of northern Esthar for the last few months," Zell said. "Nobody knows who they are or what they want or why they'd want to take Squall."

"That kinda sounds like magic," Selphie said. "The way the blizzard happened."

Selphie's comment surprised him. It hadn't occurred to him at the time, nor after, that it could have been some kind of magic. Now that she'd pointed that out, it couldn't have been anything else. The blizzard had only lasted the duration of the fight.

"Could have been," he said. He got to his feet and picked his phone up off the counter. "I need to call Cid."

* * *

Rinoa went through the motions for the rest of the evening. She put on a smile for Ella and helped her clean up the den while Selphie chattered on to keep things light. Rinoa appreciated her friends, and she appreciated the way both Selphie and Zell tried to lend a hand and distract her from her worry, but it crept in and hung on.

A dozen or more times, Rinoa found herself on the verge of tears over some small reminder that Squall wasn't there. A photo. His spare gloves Ella kept stashed in her toy box. The Griever emblem in her pocket. It was difficult to keep it together.

"Rin, I've got to go," Selphie said regretfully a few hours later. "I've gotta report early in the morning and Xu'll have my backside if I'm late."

"It's fine," Rinoa said. "I'll be fine."

She sounded braver than she felt. Like she had everything covered when she really didn't.

A glance at the clock told her it was later than she expected and she'd forgotten all about closing down the store. She cursed under her breath and glanced at her daughter, who stifled a yawn as she colored quietly on the floor.

It was way past Ella's bedtime and Rinoa didn't know what to do. She sat down on the couch, overwhelmed by her sudden helplessness. She was not helpless and she never had been, but the idea that Squall was not here to help manage their day to day activities sent her into a panic-spiral.

What was she going to do?

Zell noticed. He sat down beside her as Selphie said her goodbyes and made a promise to come back in the morning. All Rinoa could do was nod her thanks and bite back her tears.

"Go do what you need to do, Rin," Zell said. "I'll put Ella to bed."

"I can't ask you to do that," she said.

"No biggie," he said. "Go take care of it. I don't mind."

Rinoa rose to her feet and slipped on her shoes as Zell plopped down on the floor beside her daughter. On any other night, at any other time, Squall would be here to take care of readying Ella for bed while Rinoa closed the store for the night. Squall never minded that responsibility. Spending time with his daughter had never been a burden or an obligation to him. He looked forward to it, but he wasn't here and his absence tore a great, big hole in Rinoa's heart.

She didn't want to leave. She trusted Zell, and Ella adored him. That wasn't the problem.

It was the part where she was supposed to act like all was well that bothered her. How was she supposed to pretend everything was business as usual when every instinct in her said to go and find Squall herself?

The reality was, she couldn't.

It was less about being reckless and more about her own responsibilities. Ella, managing a home and a business. She could abandon the store, but there was still Ella to consider. It wasn't like she could take a five-year-old to Trabia, and it wouldn't be right to leave her with Selphie. Selphie wouldn't mind at all, but Rinoa knew that wasn't right. Ella came first, over and above even Squall.

As she stepped outside, Rinoa brushed away a tear and took a deep breath of the balmy, briny night air. It calmed her a little, even as it made her miss Squall more.

Two years ago, the souvenir shop next to the train station had closed without warning. One evening, as Squall, Rinoa and Ella had taken a walk around the town as they often did, Rinoa remarked that the space would make a nice little bookstore. Balamb had a small newsstand, that offered a pathetic rack of paperback bestsellers, but no real bookstore.

_…Together they peer into the small window at the empty space. Rinoa imagines racks full of all kinds of books and magazines and a coffee bar that offers a selection of quality, designer coffee. She pictures post cards and trinkets of the sort the souvenir shop once sold, but less garish. Works from local artists for sale on the walls, and comfortable couches and chairs where travelers might pass the time with a coffee and a magazine while they wait for the train._

_She voices this thought to Squall, sure that he'll laugh or tell her it's a stupid idea, but he doesn't. He's intrigued and peppers her with questions about what kind of selection the store would carry, what hours it would be open, and what kind of staff would be needed to run it._

_His questions seem out of character, but Rinoa doesn't think much of it as they walk away, headed for the oceanfront park. It's a silly pipe-dream, and they can't afford it with a car payment, a mortgage, and a child._

_The subject doesn't come up for almost two weeks, and by that time, Rinoa has nearly forgotten about it. Not because she's not interested, but because it seems like one of her silly schemes that will only lead them into financial ruin._

_Squall comes home one afternoon and dumps a pile of paper on the table. Rinoa's not sure what this is or why he has that gleam in his eye._

_"I think we can make it work," he says. "I ran some figures, got some info on start-up capital and a few recommendations from Laguna on a supply chain and I think we can do it. We'll be broke for a while, but... if we do it right, this could be our future."_

_"What are you talking about?" Rinoa asks, confused by the spreadsheets and numbers before her. "What is all this?"_

_"The souvenir shop," he says. "The space next door is available too. We could buy both and turn it into a real bookstore. There's a customer here, Rin. People in Balamb are ordering their books from Galbadia because there's no place in town to buy them. And you said it yourself, the lack of decent coffee is shameful."_

_"Are you kidding me?" she asks. "You really looked into this?"_

_"It's a good investment, Rin," he says._

_"Wait... Are you admitting I actually had a good idea?"_

_"...whatever," he says with a hit of a smile. "So, do you want to do this?"_

_Rinoa can only nod. A second later, she tackles him and holds on, amazed by the way Squall shows his love for her. Maybe he doesn't say the things she wants to hear all the time, and maybe physical affection in public still makes him uncomfortable, but he's never had to say he loves her. He proves it over and over again with gestures, both small and monumental..._

Laguna invested half the start-up, and they'd gotten a loan for the rest. It had taken a lot of work and a lot of time to remodel, order and set up, but it had been worth it. The finished product was something out of Rinoa's daydreams, and even better in reality.

She loved everything about the place. Owning and running a business was harder than she'd thought it would be, and there were a few bumps in the road, but Squall had helped her learn the financial management and accounting, something that had never been Rinoa's cup of tea. He'd proved himself a patient and thorough teacher and had insisted that if she could add and subtract, she could do it.

He was right. After she got over her fear of numbers and learned how use the new business software, it got easier. The only thing she still struggled with was over or under ordering, and that was largely dependent on demand. It was hard to predict what would be a hit and what wouldn't, especially with new products or break-out best sellers. She'd done her best, and they were finally on their way to making a profit.

The store was only five blocks from their house, but it might as well have been miles. Rinoa was not in the right frame of mind to focus on what needed to be done, but she forced herself to think about what was important.

Inside, the store was cozy and smelled of coffee beans and books. A single tourist stood at the counter to pay for his purchases as Rinoa greeted her part-time clerk, Lance.

"Hey, Mrs. Leonhart," he said. "I was starting to worry."

"It's been a rough day," she said. "Any problems?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Lance said. "Had to chase Rascal and his little minions out again. Pretty sure they're shoplifting candy bars or something."

"Hmm," Rinoa said. "I'll talk to his mother."

"Good luck with that," Lance said.

Rascal had been ornery when Rinoa had first met him during the war, but he hadn't been a delinquent. Now that he was an adult, he thought he could do whatever he wanted, and his mother let him. Rinoa didn't believe he was a bad kid, but with no one to enforce rules or expect him to behave, he'd become the bane of shop owners all over town.

At least it was only candy bars and not expensive and rare hardback books. Still, it was a problem, and she intended to put a stop to it. Maybe next time she saw him, she'd scare the daylights out of him by giving him a demonstration of what fate awaited him if she caught him. Maybe, she'd turn him into a toad for a few days. Or make tentacles grow out of his head. That would serve him right. Maybe more so than a stay in jail or a sound thrashing from his mother.

In her office, she booted up the computer and set the timer on the safe. It was ten minutes to close so she returned to the front and waited at the door. She said goodnight to the tourist as he left with his purchase and spent the time putting the rack of magazines back in order. Behind the counter, Lance was hard at work cleaning up the small workspace at the coffee bar.

Of her five employees, Lance was the best of them. He paid attention to the details. He was never late, never called in sick and never complained about anything. Maybe, for the time being, she could train him to close the store on his own, at least, until Squall was back.

If he came back.

That unexpected and painful thought brought tears to her eyes and she turned away to face the street beyond the window. He would come back. She had to believe he would. She had to believe he would be fine, no matter how scary and awful the situation he was in.

When the clock struck ten, she closed and locked the door and returned to the office as Lance moved out to the floor to shelve the books scattered about the store. She did the nightly count and the paperwork in a daze and came up short 20 Gil each time. She frowned at the pile of coins and paper money before her and counted again with the same result.

It wasn't the first time they'd come up a few Gil short and she checked the schedule to remind herself which employees worked that day. She'd opened with Dana, a widowed mother of two. Chastity had been the mid-day cashier, and Lance had closed. She made a note of that in her ledger and looked to see when the two women would be working again so she could discuss it.

Twenty Gil wasn't much, but it added up. She hoped it was just carelessness and not theft. Rinoa could forgive a mistake, but not someone stealing food from Ella's mouth.

"All done, Mrs. Leonhart," Lance said behind her. "Is there anything else you need me to do?"

"Not that I can think of," she said and turned to face him. "Would you be interested in a temporary to permanent promotion?"

Lance looked surprised. He blinked at her and ran a hand over his ample belly.

"Yeah," he said. "I could definitely use some extra cash."

"Great," Rinoa said. "Come have a seat and I'll show you some of the closing stuff."

It was a good distraction from all the bad feelings and worries. Lance was good with computers and picked up the electronic procedure quickly. He even took notes, which Rinoa liked and it gave her some confidence that he would do fine on his own after a few nights of training.

An hour later, Rinoa headed back home and that heavy, painful ache was back. She entered the house to find Ella asleep in Zell's lap on the couch.

"She wanted to wait for you," Zell said. "I probably shoulda put her to bed, but..."

"It's okay," Rinoa said, a little glad that he hadn't.

Zell lifted the girl and followed Rinoa upstairs where he placed Ella in her princess bed. Rinoa covered her and kissed her forehead and made sure she had her favorite stuffed dinosaur tucked in beside her before returning to the hall. She stood in the doorway to watch her daughter sleep.

"What am I gonna do, Zell?" she asked softly. "What do I do if he doesn't come home?"

Zell dropped a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

"Don't lose hope, Rin," he said. "He'll come home."

Zell sounded as if he truly believed that, and Rinoa wanted to believe it too.

But...

What if he didn't?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read this before, there's going to be new content later on because I can't help myself when I start tinkering. Am also trying to update every day or every other day. No promises, but that's the goal. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I appreciate the kudos! :)

_…Stella Raine Leonhart is born on a Tuesday afternoon. She comes into the world screaming and covered in goo, but Squall has never seen anything so beautiful in his life. He is terrified and elated and heart-sick all at once._

_He presses a kiss to Rinoa's temple and breathes in the soft perfume of her skin. Her hair sticks to her forehead and a sheen of sweat glistens on her cheeks, but she's beautiful to him, too. He feels a thousand different things and can express none of them, so he squeezes her hand and nuzzles her jawline wordlessly as the baby is cleaned and swaddled and placed in her arms._

_She understands. Words have never come easy, but they've never been harder than they are now..._

A trickle at first, then a waterfall.

Icy cold water filled Squall's nostrils as he inhaled and came awake with a start, coughing and sputtering and thrashing to free himself.

He found himself upside down, his arms behind his back and his ankles somewhere above his head. Pain rippled through his injured leg and he gasped, inhaled a mouthful of water and choked on it.

It tasted of the sea, briny and metallic. It burned his chapped lips and his raw throat. Stung his tired eyes.

_...Stella stops crying the moment the nurse deposits her into his arms. He is speechless as he looks down at his daughter's face and cradles her against him. She is so small and fragile, too tiny to be real. Ten perfect fingers, ten perfect toes, perfect rosebud mouth and a head full of dark hair, like a little doll._

_He can scarcely believe she belongs to him. All those things he thought were sentimental and sappy before are now fact. He has taken lives, but now he has created one, and it is nothing short of a miracle._

_She is perfect in his eyes. Perfect, and in the space of a heartbeat, he is head over heels in love. He never knew he would love her so quickly or with such complete devotion..._

Drowning.

His lungs were full of water. He coughed to expel it, drew a breath and choked on a flood of cold, salty seawater. In his chest, his heart raced.

He was trained for this. Trained to endure this kind of torture.

At sixteen, a year away from things that would alter his life forever, a year from things far worse than this, he and his classmates were taught what drowning felt like. A year from finding all the pieces missing from his life, he had stopped breathing for three whole minutes. By the time he graduated, he already knew all the ways someone could be hurt, and how to survive it.

He trained for this, but this time, there was no one waiting to revive him should his heart stop beating.

_...on the bed, Rinoa's eyes glitter with unshed tears, her tired face soft and brimming with love as she watches him brush a finger over Stella's cheek..._

When it relented, his head was clear.

He spat out the last of the sea water and gasped for breath. Hands swept over his bare skin and tested the bindings around his hands and ankles.

The bright flashlight directed into his eyes rendered him blind, but there were at least two people in the room with him. A pair of hands cradled his head and stroked wet strands of hair from his cheeks, the touch gentle and loving, a woman's hands, but they were not Rinoa's.

"This can all go away," a woman whispered. "It can all stop, just tell us where to find her."

"Leonhart, Squall, SeeD Rank A, Balamb Garden Commander," he hissed through clenched teeth. "ID number -"

Claws dug into his scalp and his words were cut off by the collision of an open palm against his cheek.

"Leonhart, Squall. ID number 41269."

"We can do worse, you know," the woman said. "Think of your wife and child, Leonhart. You don't want to go home to them in pieces."

_….and he makes Stella a silent promise to be there, to be a good father, to love her unconditionally and to give her all the things he never got as a child..._

* * *

Rinoa didn't want to go to sleep.

"Come on, Rin," Zell said. "Why don't you take one of the tranquilizers Dr. K gave you?"

Rinoa changed the channel to a news station. Zell sat beside her on the couch and looked at the screen. Nothing of interest, unless one cared about Galbadian hockey scores.

"It's been a long day," he said. "You'll feel better once you've had some sleep."

"Can't," she said and changed the channel. "Ella."

"I'll stay," he said. "In case she wakes up or you need me or something happens."

"I can't ask you to do that."

"You don't have to ask, Rin," he said and puffed out his chest. "That's what friends do. They come over when things suck and they hold your hair when you puke, and they pick up the pieces when everything goes to shit. Part of the job description."

Rinoa got up, went to the kitchen, and returned with the bottle of tranquilizers. She set them on the coffee table, stared at them, and wrung her hands together. On her wrist, a thread of electricity wound around the Odine bangle, sinuous and serpent-like against the metal.

Zell picked the bottle up and opened it. He shook a single tablet into her palm and passed his unopened bottle of water to her.

"Half dose," he said. "Just to help you sleep."

She swallowed it down and chased it with a few sips of water, then dropped her head into her hands. So far, she hadn't cried the way Zell expected her to. She was too quiet and way too calm.

The tranquilizer hit her fast. In minutes, her eyes drooped and the tightness around her mouth relaxed. Zell helped her up off the couch, and upstairs to her room.

Inside, all the little mementos of her life with Squall lined the surfaces of dressers and bookshelves. There were dozens of photographs in frames, on the walls, and on the mantle above a small fireplace. On the back of the closet door, Squall's dress uniform hung, pressed and ready, waiting for Squall to come home.

Zell turned down the blankets and guided Rinoa to the bed. She hung her head and sat on the edge, wringing her hands. The Odine Bangle rippled with energy and static.

"He'll come home, Rin," Zell said.

He hoped that wasn't a lie.

Rinoa nodded and slumped into the pillow. Her eyelids drooped and she stifled a yawn.

"Sweet dreams, Rin," he said as he pulled the blanket up to her shoulders. "I'll be in the guest room if you need me."

"...kay," she murmured. "Night."

Zell checked the locks on the doors, then cleaned the kitchen for lack of anything better to do. Then, he wandered the house, not ready to turn in.

Everywhere were reminders of how happy they were. Photographs of their wedding. Of Squall with Stella. Of the three of them at the beach. Photos of friends, of family vacations. Every picture told the story of a happy couple, two people who found one another in the midst of chaos and built a beautiful life together.

Someday, Zell hoped for something like this for himself. A home. A family. Someone to go home to at the end of a long day.

Zell quietly envied them for years. Every one of his past relationships was ultimately compared to theirs, and found wanting. In his head, it was the gold standard in terms of what a relationship should be. Maybe that wasn't healthy, and maybe it wasn't what he had any right to expect, but the two of them made the fairy-tale ending seem like the real deal. Zell wanted his other half, the Rinoa to his Squall.

So far, he hadn't found her. Or maybe she hadn't found him.

As he turned in for the night, Zell vowed that if Squall didn't come back, he would make sure Rinoa and Ella were taken care of. That was his duty as a best friend, to ensure that whatever happened, they were not alone.

* * *

Rinoa woke up groggy and confused and she reached for Squall, craving the feel of his arms around her. Her hand found his pillow and she cracked open an eye. His side of the bed was empty and still partially made.

Gone. He was gone.

She sat up. Her head swam and her stomach rolled. She was on her feet in an instant and she lurched for the bathroom as a wave of sickness washed through her. She barely made it to the toilet before the contents of her stomach spilled violently into the bowl.

Half-retching, and half-sobbing, she went to her knees and folded her arms over the porcelain rim, waiting for the next round.

"Rin? You okay?"

Rinoa could only shake her head no. She had no words and no voice and if she moved, she was going to be sick again.

"I didn't mean for you to take me seriously about the puking thing," Zell said.

He crouched down beside her and swept her hair away from her face. He held it in his fist as she vomited again.

"Tranquilizers," she muttered and spat into the bowl. "Alcohol. Bad idea."

"Shit, I didn't think about that," Zell said. "My fault. Sorry."

Her stomach calmed after a while, and she sat back against the tub with her forehead against her folded arms. She accepted the wet wash cloth Zell offered and pressed it to her face. The nausea passed, but her limbs shook as she rose to her feet and tossed the soiled cloth in the sink.

"No more meds," she swore.

"Yeah, okay," Zell agreed. "Want some breakfast?"

"No, thanks," she said. She glanced at her watch. "I need to get Ella up for school."

The next hour was a blur of activity. Ella campaigned to wear her tutu instead of the jeans and sweater Rinoa picked out, and sulked when Rinoa said no. She couldn't find Ella's shoes or her backpack. After twenty minutes of searching, she found both behind the couch where she was sure she looked before.

In the kitchen, Zell made pancakes in the shape of t-rexaur heads for Ella while Rinoa grabbed a shower. It did little to lift her mood or the fog in her head, but it washed away the sheen of sweat on her skin and wiped her mind free of the cobwebs left behind by the tranquilizer.

It was nearly time to go when Rinoa finally made it downstairs. At the table, Ella growled at her remaining pancake and stabbed it with a fork a few times before she shoved a piece in her mouth.

"T-rexaur brains!" she announced as Rinoa poured fresh coffee into her mug. "Omnomnom!"

Ella liked to play with her food, then would complain if it was already cold by the time she finally got around to eating it. Rinoa encouraged creative play everywhere except mealtime. If she let Ella have her way, she would spend hours building houses out of carrots and bits of steak, and mountains from her peas and mashed potatoes. And though T-rexaur pancakes were a fun idea for the weekend, they did not have time to devote another hour to finishing breakfast.

"Really, Zell?" Rinoa muttered.

"Aww, come on, it's fun," he said with a sunny grin. "Regular old pancakes are boring."

"I'm so going to blame you when she demands chocobo shaped pizza for dinner," Rinoa said.

"I'll just tell her it's moon shaped."

"That's... Actually, that's not a bad idea," Rinoa conceded. "Stelly-belly, eat. We've got to go."

"Graaawwwr!"

"T-rexaurs are not allowed at the table," Rinoa said. "Or at school. Eat your breakfast. We're going to be late."

Ella ate the last few bites of her pancake while Rinoa slipped a pair of sneakers on Ella's feet. Breakfast done, Ella dinosaur-stomped to the front door, her hands tucked up to her armpits and she growled and pretended to bite things along the way.

Driving was an old fear she never quite conquered but did anyway. She hadn't even learned until she was almost 23, and only because she was sick of relying on Squall or friends for a ride. She still hated it, but it was necessary.

Balamb didn't have much vehicle traffic, but at that hour, there were a lot of pedestrians on their way to work or the train station. The tourists were particularly bad, and rarely looked before they crossed the road. More than once, Rinoa nearly committed accidental vehicular homicide when some family on holiday from Trabia stepped out in front of her.

It was no different this morning. As the town woke up, the sidewalks bustled with people. It was always easy to tell who was who. She recognized most of the locals, but even if she didn't know them, board shorts and flip-flops and sunburns always gave the tourists away.

In the back seat, Ella roared at a family of four clutching beach towels and straw bags overflowing with snacks and sand toys. They paid her no attention and she banged on the glass, gnashing her teeth and pawing at the window with hands curled into claws. Her fingers left sticky smears on the glass.

"If you're going to be a T-rexaur today, no biting the other kids, okay?" Rinoa reminded her as she pulled into the parking lot of Ella's school. "You have to be a friendly dinosaur."

Ella's growl turned into a puppy-like whimper.

"Is Daddy coming home today?"

Rinoa managed to keep her worries about Squall at bay all through breakfast, but Ella's plaintive question choked her up.

"He's going to be at work for a while, sweetie," she lied. "He'll be back soon."

"Tell him he needs to come home," Ella pouted. "Where he lives."

"I will," Rinoa said. She stopped at the curb and put the car in park, got out and opened the door for Ella. "Be good today. No biting."

Ella forgot all about Squall, showed her teeth, and roared.

* * *

At the bookstore, Rinoa counted the safe and the cash drawer, then booted up her computer to close out the weekly sales report. When Dana arrived, Rinoa gave her the cash-handling lecture and felt terrible about it. Sometimes, it was no fun being the boss and she wished she could trust all her employees to pay attention to what they were doing.

There was a short morning rush as commuters came in for coffee and newspapers and reading materials for the train or a day at the beach. Rinoa jumped in to help. She served the coffee as it was ordered, and she recommended books and magazines to shoppers that browsed the aisles.

Once it slowed down, she retreated to her office and threw herself into the task of ordering. A breakout romance novel was flying off the shelf, and sales of Balamb-themed shot-glasses and post cards were way up. She answered e-mails and perused the customer request lists, took a call from the Balamb Bakery about a proposed selection of baked goods to sell with the coffee, and looked into training guides for food safety for her employees.

It was noon before she realized it and she was glad for the distraction of work to keep her busy. It was only now she understood why Squall used to get so wrapped up in his own work. It kept her mind off her worries. When Chastity arrived, she repeated her lecture and then returned to the office to finalize payroll.

"Mrs. Leonhart? There's someone here for you," Dana said at the office door.

Rinoa got up and poked her head outside. Quistis stood at the counter in plain clothes, her hair down and a travel bag was slung over her shoulder. After Quistis' behavior the day before, Rinoa wasn't excited to speak with her.

"Coffee?" Rinoa asked.

"Please," Quistis said. "I was in such a rush, I forgot mine."

Rinoa poured a large double brew into a paper cup with a lid and passed it over the counter.

"Can we talk in your office?" Quistis asked. She took a sip of the coffee. "Oh, that's good."

"Best in town," Rinoa bragged. "Come on in. Pardon the mess. It's been a hectic morning."

Rinoa kicked a box containing last month's cash out reports to the side and motioned to the chair across from her desk.

"Have a seat," she said.

Quistis set the cup down on the desk and arranged her bag between her feet. It was her official SeeD traveling case, Rinoa noted. Quistis, like Squall, rarely participated in missions anymore.

"I just wanted to apologize for yesterday," Quistis said. "It wasn't that I didn't think you could handle it. I hope you know that."

Rinoa turned her face away. At the time, it seemed like no one in that room but Zell believed she deserved the truth.

"I didn't want that to be the last time you saw him alive," Quistis said. "I didn't want you to be thinking about that if the worst should happen."

Rinoa pressed a hand to her mouth and fought back tears. She'd managed to hold it together so far, and in as little as three short sentences, Quistis opened the floodgates.

"I'm sorry," Quistis said. "I know this isn't easy."

Rinoa rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms and sat back in her chair. She fixed her eyes on the computer screen until the urge to break passed.

"What's being done?" she asked.

"I'm on my way to Trabia now," Quistis said. "Me and five others from Garden, and six from Esthar at Laguna's request. We're going to do everything we can to find him."

Knowing Laguna was involved gave her a small measure of hope. He had money and resources and would spare no expense to find Squall and bring him home safe.

"I want to go with you," Rinoa said. "I can help."

"Right now, you need to take care of yourself, your daughter, and your business," Quistis said. "You know Squall will appreciate it more if you stay and manage things while he's gone."

"I'm supposed to do nothing?"

"This isn't nothing," Quistis said and gestured at the store. "This is your livelihood. Your family. That's important, too."

She was right. That was what Squall would want. There were a thousand things that needed to be done every single day. Those things could be put on hold for a few days, but indefinitely was another matter. They depended on the income from the store. If she closed the doors for more than five or six days, whatever profits they might make would be lost. Bills and debts would pile up.

But she still wanted to be the very first thing he saw when they found him. She needed to be there to heal whatever wounds he'd suffered. She needed to be sure that he was okay. She needed to see him with her own eyes.

"I take it you haven't seen the news?" Quistis asked.

"What news?"

"They released a video to Galbadia World News about an hour ago."

Rinoa sat up and stared at Quistis.

"Tell me."

"It's as bad as the last one," Quistis said. "But, now the whole world knows that he's been taken hostage."

"I want to see it," Rinoa said.

With a resigned sigh but absolutely no argument, Quistis directed her to the GWN interlink site, where the very first news item was about Squall. Rinoa scanned the article but the details were sparse and none of them registered with her anyway. She clicked on the video attached to the story, uninterested in anything but the truth. Quistis made a sound of dismay as it loaded and Squall's pale face filled the screen.

What followed forced Rinoa to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from screaming. On screen, Squall choked and sputtered as he endured some kind of water torture under a light so bright, his skin appeared translucent. Nothing could be seen of the surrounding space. A shaky camera panned over a nasty wound in his leg, the flesh around it streaked furious red and inflamed.

It was infected.

A gloved hand wrapped around the injury and squeezed. The sound that came out of Squall was unlike any sound she'd ever heard him make before.

Nausea washed over her and her skin grew cold. Dizzy, she reached for the small waste basket under her desk and vomited into it as Quistis stopped the video. This was not a holdover from the tranquilizer but a visceral reaction to Squall's pain. She hurt for him, with him, and there was nothing she could do to stop this.

She set the wastebasket aside and wiped her mouth with a napkin. Who were these people and what the hell did they want? If it was worth torturing a man for, why hadn't they made their demands?

"Can I get you something?" Quistis asked. "Water?"

Rinoa shook her head and hit play to continue the video. Squall had lost weight and his eyes were hollow and ringed with dark circles. Chapped lips trembled as his body arched away from his captors, and a pair of fingers dug deeper into his wound.

"What do they want?" Rinoa asked. "Why are they doing this?"

"We don't know," Quistis admitted. "But, it isn't you. We're sure of that."

If it was about her, the way to end it was simple. She would make a deal, turn herself over and then destroy them one by one. Rinoa was not a killer at heart, but something like this called to the darker parts of her magic. That part of her cried out for blood and vengeance.

They could not, and would not get away with this if she had any say in what happened.

There was no other choice, was there? She would pack a bag and follow them. Selphie would be happy to look after Ella for a few days if she asked.

"I've asked Cid to assign SeeD to watch over you and Ella for the time being," Quistis said.

"Why?" Rinoa demanded. "You said I'm not the target."

"Reporters, curiosity seekers," Quistis said. "Zell volunteered, if that makes you feel less weird about it."

Zell. Bless him and his big heart. She wouldn't have survived the last twenty-four hours without him, but he wasn't obligated to watch over her. He had a life of his own and she couldn't expect him to babysit her.

Nobody wanted her to freak out, so of course Garden sent someone to report back if she showed signs of going over the edge. Not that she blamed them, but still, even if it was Zell, she hated that someone needed to be assigned the job in the first place.

"And before you get any crazy ideas," Quistis said. "He's been instructed to keep you from running off after us. By force if necessary, so do yourself a favor and forget whatever plan you're concocting in your head."

Rinoa opened her mouth to snap back, but the look on Quistis' face stopped her.

"Let us do our job, okay?" Quistis said. "I know this is hard, but your job right now is to be here, and I promise, you'll be the first to know if we find anything."

* * *

Ella was still pretending to be a T-Rexaur when Rinoa picked her up from school. She stomped her way to the car and gnashed her teeth and roared at Rinoa when she buckled her into the booster seat.

"T-Rexaurs eat meat!" she proclaimed.

"They do," Rinoa agreed.

"They hate vegetables."

"The Stellasarus loves vegetables," Rinoa said, "and we're having broccoli with dinner, so you better eat it all up."

What a chore, to pretend everything was fine. It was for Ella's sake that she bothered, and she put on a smile and faked normal as best as she could. No reason to upset her if she didn't have to.

"The Stellasarus loves baby trees," Ella said. "They're my favorite. Comp, chomp, chomp!"

Baby trees was something Squall taught her, back when she'd turned her nose up at the weird, green thing on her plate.

That hurt to think about.

Broccoli Pie, indeed.

The nausea hadn't gone away, and the very act of driving made Rinoa feel sea sick. It came on in waves as her mind kept going back to the things she'd seen in the video. By the time she made it home, barfing again was inevitable and she ran for the bathroom in order to keep from being sick all over herself.

Zell was already there, and his concern was the last thing she wanted or needed, but he followed her to the bathroom and crouched beside her as she vomited for the third time that day. He hovered over her, waiting with a wet cloth when she finally got control of herself.

When she was sure she was done, she took the tranquilizers from her purse and flushed them down the toilet. She watched the tablets swirl down the drain and tossed the empty bottle in the trash.

"Never again," she swore as Zell squeezed the back of her neck. "Never, ever again."

"Rin..." Zell began. "I'm going to take you to see Dr. K. Just to make sure."

"I'm fine," Rinoa said. "I'm just upset."

"I know," Zell said. "But I'm still gonna take you."

"I need to get started on dinner. I have to go back to work to train someone in a little while."

Zell cracked his knuckles.

"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way," he said. "You're my friend, and I really don't wanna have to make you."

In spite of everything, Rinoa laughed.

"You really think you can?"

"I'll sure as hell try," he said. "Come on, it'll make me feel better to know it's just a bad reaction to the meds and not something else."

"Ella needs to eat," she said "I'll go tomorrow."

"Now, Rin," he said. "Me an' Ella will grab something at the cafeteria. You know how much she loves institutional spaghetti."

"I want hot dogs!" Ella shouted. "Please, mommy? Can we?"

Rinoa didn't have the energy to fight the both of them. She relented and allowed Zell to drive them to Garden. He and Ella chattered back and forth about T-Rexaurs the whole way there and as they parked, he made a promise to take Ella to the observation deck in the training center so she could see a real one.

Zell had called ahead. Dr. Kadowaki was expecting her when she arrived, and she ushered Rinoa into an exam room without bothering with pleasantries. Who knew puking a few times would get everyone so riled up?

"Are you sick?" Ella asked.

"Just a check up, sweetie," Rinoa promised. "My tummy feels bad today, so we're just going to make sure everything's okay."

"We'll be back in a bit," Zell promised as he took Ella by the hand. "I'm sure you'll be waiting with bated breath to hear all about the T-Rexaurs."

"Graaaawwwrrr!" Ella chimed in.

"Can't wait," Rinoa said, falsely enthusiastic for Ella's sake.

Rinoa waited while Dr. Kadowaki pulled her file and then joined her in the exam room. The older woman took her pulse and her blood pressure, her temperature and her weight. As if they hadn't done all of this the day before. As if anything changed between then and now.

"I understand the meds made you sick?" Dr. Kadowaki said.

"I forgot you're not supposed to drink alcohol on them," Rinoa said. "I had a few drinks before I took one last night. Woke up nauseous, threw up a few times."

"How many times?"

"Three."

Dr. Kadowaki made a note in Rinoa's chart. "We could try something else. Something a little milder?"

"No," Rinoa said. "I don't want it. What I want is for Squall to come home."

"When was your last period?" Dr. Kadowaki asked.

Rinoa blinked at her. What did that have to do with Squall coming home? Deep down she knew  _why_  Dr. Kadowaki was asking, but it didn't seem relevant.

And anyway, her cycles were on the erratic side, and it was difficult to keep track sometimes. A side effect of the magic, she was told. Or was it the Odine Bangle?

She couldn't remember the answer to either question. A glance at the calendar didn't help.

"I'm not sure," Rinoa said. "When was the last graduation ball?"

"Six weeks ago."

"Then it was six weeks ago."

"Is there a possibility that you're pregnant?"

It was possible. Rinoa had gone off birth control four months ago. They weren't trying for another child, exactly, but rather letting nature take its course. So far, nothing had happened.

Rinoa bit her lip and frowned at the woman. "I suppose, but.."

"Well, then let's find out, shall we?"

Twenty minutes later, after a quick exam and a urine sample, Dr. Kadowaki returned, sat down and gazed at Rinoa with a sad smile.

"No," Rinoa said. "Please say it was negative."

"Positive," Dr. Kadowaki said. "Congratulations, you're pregnant."

Rinoa's mouth dropped open, but no words would come out.

"You're probably about two to three weeks along," the doctor said. "I'll need to do an ultrasound to confirm, but that probably explains the nausea."

This was not news Rinoa needed or wanted to hear right now. This was news Squall should be there for, and the timing couldn't be any worse.

Rinoa lay back on the exam table, put her hands over her eyes and promptly burst into tears.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New stuff in this chapter. An expanded scene, a new flashback, and some updated dialogue.

The hunger pangs stopped. Squall didn't crave even the smallest morsel of food. Instead he woke one day with a stark clarity that wasn't there before. Everything in the dank, dark cell around him came into sharper focus, even in the dim light.

He knew this. Why he wasn't hungry anymore.

The first seven or eight days, hunger could cripple a man. By day eight or nine, the pain subsided, the body adjusted and began to metabolize its own fat stores and muscles to survive until the heart gave out.

True, he could die of other complications, of illness or injury, but that was his most likely trajectory if food was not something they intended to provide him.

Some could live months without eating if they were healthy to start with, but the higher the fat reserves, the longer one could survive without food.

Before his capture, Squall was a picture of health, save a slightly enlarged heart due to years of rigorous training, but that wasn't unusual in people who worked out as hard as SeeDs did.

That same training combined with a bad habit of forgetting to eat when he was busy meant that his body fat percentage was about a half a percent below what Dr. Kadowaki considered healthy. That put Squall at a disadvantage in terms of survival, when stacked next to an average man of average health and weight. He had less time than the average man, and the clock was ticking.

The wound on his leg was a disadvantage, too. It wouldn't close and it oozed thick, blood-tinged pus when he touched it. He needed antibiotics and potions, clean bandages and peroxide or else he was going to lose it to infection. The skin around it ached, and he was sick and feverish, alternately sweating and shivering as his body tried to combat the infection.

He couldn't put any weight on it, and he could barely stand on his own. He was too weak, and he needed to conserve his energy anyway, but if there was an opportunity for escape, Squall wouldn't be able to take the initiative and run on a leg he couldn't even stand on.

After a while, he lost track of how long it had been. Days? Weeks? Months? All he knew was sometimes they left him alone for hours, maybe even days. Other times, they made him scream. Always the same question: Where is she?

There was no day or night down in this hole. He began to mark his sleeps on the stone wall beside him with a piece of mortar that had come loose. In no way was it an accurate representation of how long he'd been here. Those twenty-seven little lines meant nothing, but it was the only thing he had to mark the passage of time.

They started to bring him food. Not often, but enough to keep him alive. Without a point of reference, he judged the time between meals to be approximately a week, but it could be every other day for all he knew. Time ceased to make sense. Hours and days stretched into infinity or mere seconds, and there was nothing but the waiting. Waiting for a rescue. For the next torture session. Waiting for the next meal. Waiting to be killed.

Food made him sick after so many days without. He knew better than to stuff the stale bits of bread down his throat with such haste and he paid the price. That first meal was lost to him. He ate too fast and vomited it up all over the floor that no one cleaned. They left him on his side next to the puddle, curled up in a ball and waited for the nausea to pass. It was days-hours-weeks before the next meal came.

It was never a full serving. Just a stale slice of bread, a bowl of soup. Just enough to keep him alive.

With it, sometimes, they brought potions for his wounds, just enough to prevent the infection from killing him.

It was always just enough. Just enough food. Just enough first aid. Just enough pain to make him scream.

For whatever reason, they needed him alive, and that was a small comfort to cling to, even if sometimes it was bad enough he silently pleaded for it to end.

But still, he hung onto that tiny shred of hope that he would see his wife and daughter again.

They burned the soles of his feet with an iron rod that glowed like molten lava. They pulled a molar with a pair of pliers. Broke one wrist, then the other. Ripped handfuls of hair from his head. Snipped off the pinky finger of his left hand at the first knuckle and cauterized the wound with a blow torch.

The more they did, the further he retreated. Sometimes, he didn't even feel it. It was like watching it happen to someone else. He was awake, he saw, but his mind was so far away, the pain didn't hit him full force until it was over.

He stopped wondering what they wanted, or when he would go home. When he closed his eyes, he was already home, with Ella curled up in his lap, her high, clear voice singing a song she learned in school. He was with Rinoa, half asleep with the warmth of her body pressed against his own.

Reality came and went. Clarity when he was alone. Fantasy when there was pain.

He wasn't even aware they moved him somewhere cleaner and warmer until he was already shackled in small room with a porthole high above on one wall. Beneath him, his new residence rocked. Back and forth, back and forth, his stomach rolled anew, this time with sea-sickness.

At least now, he could tell night from day, but did it matter anymore if he didn't know how long he'd been a prisoner? Did the passage of time matter when he wasn't at home with his family to enjoy it?

"We have your wife and child, Squall," his captor said, her voice was like honey. Sweet. Childlike. "Tell us the truth and no harm will come to them."

"Prove it," he said.

The door opened. Rinoa stepped inside, a guard on each side of her and her hands bound behind her back. Her face was bruised, her eyes almost swollen shut. Squall pushed to his feet, ignoring the unsteady trembling in his limbs and the agony in his rotting leg. The chains rattled as he lunged for them, breathless and shaking.

His restraints stopped him short with a loud clatter. The untreated breaks in his wrists ground together and it sent him to his knees.

"Just tell them, Squall. Please."

Only then, kneeling on the floor looking up at the battered specter of his wife did he realize everything about this was wrong.

Rinoa would not be a passive hostage. She might go along with it to get to him, but once she located him, none of these people would be left standing.

"Bullshit."

They were safe. They would be protected. Looked after. Cid would ensure it, and if not, Laguna. Quistis and Irvine and Selphie and Zell would rally around them and keep them safe. This was not Rinoa standing here in front of him, meek and mild and beaten down. This was some cruel trick, a convincing impostor, but not his wife.

One of the guards struck her in the face with the butt of his rifle and she doubled over. Blood spilled from her freshly split lip.

"They have Ella," Rinoa said. "They'll hurt her, too."

A lie. Hyne, this had to be a lie. It had to be. If he was wrong, his life as he knew it was over.

"Leonhart, Squall. 41269."

Something hard cracked against the side of his skull and his vision went dark, reformed itself, went dark, and reformed in time with his heartbeat. Rinoa flickered in and out, there and then not there. And then gone for good when he could focus again.

Was he hallucinating?

"Edea. Where is she?"

Edea? What could they want with Edea? She was no longer a Sorceress, her power gone, and she was no threat to anyone at all. She spent 300 days a year on the White SeeD ship, and the rest of it at the orphanage, though Squall didn't understand why. The place was little more than a ruin and offered little in the way of protection against the elements.

Squall gave them the only answer he could.

"Go fuck yourselves."

* * *

Four weeks.

A whole month, and not a word. Quistis, Selphie, and a team of SeeDs were in Trabia, searching the mountains where Squall was last seen, and so far, they found nothing. There was no trace of Squall anywhere, not a shred of evidence of where he might have been taken, or of what might have happened.

They hadn't found a body, but it was hard not to lose hope.

Sometimes, Rinoa dreamed of him, trapped in darkness and wrapped in cold and pain, his limbs thin and weak and his face hollow. He would reach for her, his hand wrapped around her wrist, nothing but bone, bleached and dry against her skin.

Other times, she met him in the field beside the orphanage. In these dreams, he was battle weary but whole and healthy, his face still soft with the last vestiges of adolescence. He would look past her, around her and when she called his name, he didn't hear her.

Sometimes, the field reformed into the black void of space, an empty pitch-dark where Squall didn't come to her rescue. Instead, she was alone, her oxygen low and the lights of the space station were so far away, it was hard to distinguish them from the stars. He was gone –he never existed at all – and she would panic, suffocate, and wake seconds before she died all alone.

That one was the worst.

Sometimes, her night terrors woke Zell, though how he heard her all the way down the hall, Rinoa didn't know. She suspected he was up all night on watch and napped during the day while the kids were gone and she was at work. He didn't mention it, and she didn't ask.

Morning sickness lasted all day. Everyone assumed her lack of appetite and listlessness was due to Squall's absence. They assumed she was heart-sick and encouraged her to eat anyway. When she did, she could barely hold it down.

She hadn't told anyone she was pregnant. Eventually, they would figure it out, but it was too early and Squall wasn't there to celebrate with her.

She was barely sick with when pregnant with Ella. There was only a mild nausea that lasted a few weeks, but this time around, even the smell of food turned her stomach. She was weak, jittery, and tired all the time, no matter what she did.

Worried something was wrong, she went to Dr. Kadowaki for advice. She was not the primary care physician Rinoa saw for everyday healthcare, but she trusted the woman more than the doctors at the small clinic in town. Dr. Kadowaki knew what she was and what that meant far better than any of the local yokels in Balamb.

"You never know how your body will react," the doctor told her. "Some woman begin to feel ill two weeks into pregnancy and some never get sick at all. Sometimes the nausea is mild, sometimes extreme. And every pregnancy and every baby is different."

Rinoa did not feel good about this pregnancy, and the morning sickness was only half of it. Squall didn't even know and there was no way to tell him.

Squall was scared to death the first time around, even though he never said it. He wasn't sure he was ready to be a father, or that he would be a good one, but he found the changes to her body fascinating, and as her belly grew, so did his interest in parenthood. And just like every other burden thrust upon his shoulders, Squall adapted, embraced it, and accepted the challenge.

He read every book he could find on the subject of child-rearing and studied the details of feedings and swaddling and developmental progress like a bloodhound on the scent of a criminal. He joined an online forum for fathers and soaked up all the advice more experienced dads offered. He asked the doctor questions about Rinoa's swollen feet and her appetite for dairy products, about vitamins and exercise belly support bands. He researched the worthiness of dozens of educational toys, books, strollers, brands of diapers, pre-walk footwear... Anything and everything related to baby was well researched beforehand.

Once, Rinoa caught him practicing diaper changes on a doll he borrowed from Selphie and she'd laughed privately about it for days. He accompanied Rinoa to birthing classes and acted the stern, hard-nosed coach like they were SeeD cadets and not a room full of fat, uncomfortable pregnant ladies learning to breathe correctly for delivery.

Rinoa found all this hilariously funny, but no one could accuse Squall Leonhart of being unprepared, at least, not in terms of practical knowledge. Emotionally was a different story.

Squall doubted himself, and for a time, his doubts infected Rinoa. He might be too much like her own father – too strict, too cold, and too impatient for children, but he surprised her, and himself, by being none of those things when the time came.

From the start, Squall was every bit the loving, doting, and patient father every little girl deserved. From the very beginning, there were stars in his eyes when he looked at Ella. He was the first to respond to her cries in the night, the first to change a dirty diaper, and the first to wipe away spit-up after feedings. He held Ella so much in the beginning, Rinoa teased him about learning to share, and Edea had scolded him for spoiling her.

But he loved his daughter completely. Not even Rinoa could make him smile the way Ella could.

Ella asked about him every day, and every day, Rinoa lied to her daughter.

"When is daddy coming home?"

"Soon, sweetie," Rinoa said. "He's still working."

"How long is soon?"

"I don't know."

Soon might be never, but Rinoa didn't know how to tell Ella the truth. How could she expect a child so young to understand? How could she explain what  _hostage_  meant without Ella being afraid that someone might take Rinoa away, too?

* * *

 

Ellone came to visit two weeks after Squall's disappearance and stayed to help. She would have come sooner, but it was difficult to reach her when she was at sea with the White SeeDs. Ellone tried to stay out people's heads if she could avoid it, and she hadn't gotten word of anything that happened until they made port a week after the story broke.

At Rinoa's request, Ellone tried to connect with Squall, but all there was to see was pain and darkness.

Brick walls, damp and cold.

That was all there was. Squall was alive, but unreachable. He didn't know they were there or that anyone was looking for him. He didn't know where he was. All he knew was darkness.

After the first few times, Rinoa couldn't look anymore. It didn't help.

Ellone kept trying, but there was nothing new, only more of the same.

Laguna popped in too, but never for long. A day here, a weekend there. His duties in Esthar kept him busy. He came when he could, and he promised to spare no expense to ensure Squall's safe return and offered to hire a housekeeper and a nanny and a number of other services to help Rinoa stay afloat. The housekeeper, she accepted, if only because it was the one thing she let slip, even with her friends there to lend a hand.

And Zell.

If not for him, Rinoa would have fallen apart, burned the house down, and thrown herself off a cliff three times over. He helped her get Ella ready for school on the bad mornings, mowed the lawn, made dinner, and did a thousand other little things that Rinoa couldn't always find it in herself to do. Zell did them all with a smile and not a word of complaint.

"Easiest mission I've ever been on," he said. "I'll take lawn maintenance over dragon extermination any day."

Between Ellone and Zell, Rinoa should have been okay, but she wasn't. She was distracted, sick, and anxious. She either slept too much or not enough, and there was a horrible emptiness inside her that nothing, not even Ella could fill.

The fourth week of Squall's absence, the morning sickness began to abate. She'd lost weight, and food still held no appeal, but it was better.

She still hadn't told anyone. She didn't want their sympathy, and in her situation, all that would do was earn her more pity.

Pity was the last thing she needed.

* * *

One sunny afternoon that same week, she sat in her office, munching on dry crackers while she did her weekly ordering. The store was tuning a nice profit, thanks to the small selection of exclusive baked goods and Lance's suggestion about offering discount coupons for Garden students and regulars. Tourist season had come to an end, and the influx of locals and students helped balance the loss of revenue.

She submitted her order for upcoming paperback releases and sat back to stare at the black computer screen. Her reflection was just a shape, an outline, but for a moment, it was Squall she saw.

Pale faced, gaunt, sick –  _broken_.

She took the Griever emblem from her pocket and ran its damaged chain through her fingers. It was a talisman, a touchstone, something to connect her to him when she felt his absence the most. It didn't help much, but it was something.

.. _.it's taken months to fix the place up the way they want it, but they're finally done and it's better than she ever imagined. Warm wood paneling and brick walls, comfortable chairs and rugs scattered throughout, natural light from the big picture windows, racks and racks of books and magazines. Near the coffee bar are pretty bistro tables with a feather motif on the wrought iron._

_"What do you think?" Squall asks and he turns in a slow circle to survey the space. He stops on a piece of art displayed near her office door and points. "What the hell is that supposed to be?"_

_"I didn't ask," Rinoa says._

_Rinoa will admit, this piece is underwhelming. The artist has painted the canvas red and glued crumpled cigarette butts on the bottom third of the picture. There are greyish-black swirls above them and Rinoa guesses it's supposed to be smoke._

_The price is set at two-thousand Gil. If someone buys it, Rinoa makes 500 Gil commission. It's not a bad deal for either Rinoa or the artists they've featured.  The art livens the place up, and the artists get free exposure without fighting for a spot at the selective and exclusive gallery in the tourist district._

_"Either I don't understand art, or this thing is hideous."_

_"To each their own," Rinoa says. "Anyway, I had a hard time coming up with people willing to trust me with their work, so we got what we got."_

_"Hide it."_

_Rinoa turns to him, grinning._

_"Maybe I should buy it and hang it in your study."_

_"No."_

_"But you seem to like it so much."_

_"_ No _."_

_She moves closer and grips handfuls of his sweater. It's soft under her fingers. Cashmere or something like it, and it smells of his cologne._

_"So. Would you like to see the office?"_

_"If you're going to show me a canvas with hairballs and dryer lint stuck to it, I'll pass."_

_She laughs into his sweater and presses her cheek to his chest. This will never get old. She won't ever grow tired of being near him, no matter how clueless he can sometimes be._

_"I've got something better," she says._

_She doesn't wait for him to ask. She strides across the room, aware that he's watching the swish of her breezy peasant skirt and the suggestive sway of her hips, and opens the office door with a flourish._

_It's nothing special. Just a desk with a computer and a chair, a pair of file cabinets and a dry erase board covered in magnets securing pending deliveries and lists of key dates. She hasn't put anything on the walls yet, but she has plans. Promotional posters from her favorite authors, pictures of her family._

_She flicks on the lights and slides her panties down her thighs without revealing anything beneath the long skirt. She tosses them aside, kicks off her ballet flats and seats herself on the edge of the desk. With a coy, inviting smile, she crooks her finger at him, beckoning him to her._

_Squall strolls toward her, making that seductive face that he doesn't even know is seductive. His hands slide around her hips and he leans down to kiss the corners of her mouth._

_"This is definitely better," he says..._

"Rin?"

Ellone stood in the doorway with a bag from the deli in one hand, a pile of children's books clutched against her chest with the other.

"Brought you lunch," Ellone said.

"Thanks," Rinoa said. She faked her friendliest smile and angled her head at the books. "I hope those aren't for Ella."

"One of them is," Ellone admitted and revealed one with a cartoon dinosaur on the cover. "The rest are for the kids on the ship. They're sick of the books we have, and honestly, I am too. I have them all memorized."

Rinoa pulled a chair up to her desk so Ellone could join her and cleared away her order lists to make space for the food. Not that Rinoa was hungry, but she would make a show of eating whatever Ellone brought, just so she didn't have to hear about it.

"I don't have to leave, you know," Ellone said and placed a wrapped sandwich in front of Rinoa. "I can stay if you need me to."

"It's fine," Rinoa said. "I'm sure the kids miss you."

"I'm sure they do, but..." Ellone said. Her were eyes shrewd and unusually calculating. "You're going to need all the help you can get till Squall comes home."

"Laguna offered to hire some help," Rinoa said. "We'll be okay."

"A housekeeper is one thing," Ellone said. "But I'm sure you'd prefer to have family around to help when the baby comes."

Rinoa blinked at her.

"Have you been in my head?"

Ellone had never once pried without reason, and the last time was during the war at Squall's request. That Rinoa knew of, anyway.

"I wouldn't do that to you."

"Then how did you know?"

"A hunch," Ellone said. "You just confirmed it."

Rinoa burst into tears. She didn't mean to. She wanted to keep it in, to be strong and tough and remain in control, but everything she held back for the last month came poring out all at once.

She pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes like that would keep the tears from spilling out. Ellone set aside her pile of books and went to her knees beside Rinoa's chair. She wrapped her arms around Rinoa and cradled her head against her shoulder, ever the big sister who could always be counted on for comfort.

Rinoa sobbed bitterly, unable to make it stop.

Ellone didn't tell her it was going to be okay. She didn't promise Squall would come home. Those were things Rinoa needed to hear, even if they proved to be untrue.

But she also didn't want to be lied to.

Nothing was okay. Squall wasn't home. And Squall's absence might become a permanent reality, no matter how hard she tried to deny that reality when she lay in bed at night and stared at the pillow where Squall's head was supposed to rest.

* * *

Quistis didn't think she would be warm ever again.

Four weeks in Trabia, neck deep in snow, and it might as well have been hell. They searched everywhere within a thirty mile radius of Squall's last known location and found nothing. Not a trace of Squall Leonhart remained and Quistis long ago began to suspect they were searching the wrong landscape.

If they didn't find anything soon, they would have to scrap the mission. Though Quistis was reluctant to give up the quest, the longer they went without so much as a clue, the less she believed Squall was alive. And if he was, he was most certainly not here.

She ducked into the command tent, her fingers half frozen inside her gloves and she sighed happily at the freshly brewed pot of coffee beside the war table. Someone had done her a kindness, after hours in the cold. The drink could taste burnt and bitter and she would welcome it anyway, so long as it was hot enough to warm her insides. She poured herself a cup, her hands still inside double-lined, waterproof gloves made for extreme weather. 

The map before her was covered in red X marks, to show where they already searched and came up empty. Nearly every inch of the map was red.

Quistis picked up the marker and added a new one.

Only the area north of where they were camped was unmarked, and that section was comprised of less than two square miles of ground, though much of it was in the form of vertical rock face and steep, winding trails of loose dirt and gravel encased in a thick layer of ice. It would be tough to navigate in the springtime, when the snows were lighter and the ice melted in the sun. In these conditions, it was damn near impossible and would take a great deal of time to explore.

There was still no word from Squall's kidnappers, no demands for ransom. The video that made the news was the last one the world or SeeD got to see.

That was a bad sign. In this case, no news was not good news.

She sipped her coffee and clutched it close to her face to thaw her frozen nose and closed her eyes for a moment. Quistis was not the sort to pray, but she said a prayer for Squall anyway, in the hopes that if there was a higher power out there listening, maybe this time she would be heard.

The tent flap rustled and Quistis opened her eyes as a tall man bundled in arctic wear similar to her own stepped inside.

"Colder than Shiva's nipples out there," he said. "Is that coffee?"

"Cups are in the box on the floor."

He stepped over to the coffee pot and poured a measure into a paper cup.

"Didn't find shit, did you?"

"No," Quistis said. "You?"

"Just more fuckin' snow."

He turned around, the hood of his jacket still pulled over his head. He left it up, but undid the thermal mask that covered his face to take a sip of the coffee.

"Shit, that's good."

"Would you care if it wasn't?"

"Nah," he said. "Could taste like a Grendel's ass and I'd still drink it."

"That paints a lovely picture," Quistis said.

Seifer flashed a smile, as charming and dangerous as ever. He'd been a handsome young man, but maturity only amplified his good looks to a sickening degree.

When Cid told her Seifer was contracted to help with the mission, she laughed until she realized Cid was not laughing with her.

Unbeknownst to Quistis, Laguna, of all people, took pity on Seifer after the war, publicly pardoned him and put him to work. First as a gunblade instructor for the army, and later as a member of Laguna's personal guard.

From time to time, Seifer picked up work at Cid and Squall's request, either as a consultant or an operative, depending on how they wanted that particular mission to go, and whether or not less ethical means were necessary. Quistis was never told about this arrangement, but it made sense so long as she looked at it objectively.

Seifer's presence here now was the result of Laguna's involvement. It was not the sort of job Seifer was used to, and the lack of action and results made him more prickly than usual.

He took a seat across from her, drew a mark on the map, and stared at all the others.

"I hate to say it, Trepe, but I we're chasing our goddamned tails. If he's alive, he's not here," Seifer said. "I doubt he's even still on the continent. Probably hasn't been for a long time. If these people were smart enough to get him in the first place, they're smart enough to go somewhere that isn't obvious."

"Where would you look?" she asked.

"Anywhere but the scene of the crime," Seifer said.

Quistis switched on the small table-top heater and toyed with the toggles on her gloves.

"What do you think they want?"

"Hell if I know," he said tersely. "Lots of reasons they might want him. Figure that out, figure out where they might be. But it sure as hell ain't here."

Quistis took another swallow of her coffee, emptied it and got up for a refill. There was just enough left to top off Seifer's cup. She offered him the pot, and he filled his cup to the brim.

"Nothing from Ellone?"

"No," Quistis said. "She's sure he's still alive, but he doesn't know where he is."

They sat in silence and drank their coffee. There wasn't anything more to say that they hadn't already said a hundred times. They were both tired and done with the cold and the snow, both frustrated with the lack of results, and both ready to go home. Quistis feared they had just wasted a whole month while the trail grew colder and colder by the day.

"Quistis? I think we've got something," Nida said over the radio. He called out a coordinate and Quistis stood to confirm his location on the map.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Abandoned house, at the top of the Black Ridge trail," Nida said. "Looks like it burned down pretty recently, or at least... the basement did."

Quistis glanced at Seifer. His expression gave nothing away, but there was an intensity in his eyes that betrayed him. His mind was already three steps ahead and calculating the fastest way to the trail head.

"There's a body down here," Nida said. "...I'm pretty sure it's him, Quistis."

* * *

Rinoa was in the middle of helping Zell make dinner when Zell's phone rang. He looked at the display, frowned and wandered away from her as she stirred a seasoning packet into a pot of rice.

Zell was out of earshot, and it was difficult to tell from his posture whether or not he was being scolded by his Ma or if it was something more serious, but Rinoa's heart responded with an up-tick in beats per minute and a lump formed in her throat.

At the table, Ella colored a green blob she would probably say was a t-rexaur. Rinoa couldn't tear her eyes away from her daughter for several seconds as a premonition of sorts took hold of her.

_"Sweetie, your daddy isn't coming home."_

_"Dead. Squall is dead."_

_"Can I go see daddy in heaven? I want to tell him to come home."_

_"Dead means gone forever..."_

The knot in her throat tightened, her heart beat hard and furious against her rib cage. Adrenaline prickled through her veins and over her skin and her breaths increased to soft pants as her chest restricted and squeezed. On her wrist, the Odine bangle sizzled with energy.

She flicked her eyes from Ella to Zell and back, until Zell hung up his phone and stood facing the hall. His shoulders slumped, his head hung, fists balled tight at his sides.

"Zell?"

He turned around. His face was ashen, his lips pressed into a thin line, and he shook his head.

"No," Rinoa said. "No, Zell. No."

He shook his head again and motioned for her to follow him. At the table, Ella chattered to herself, doing the voices for the characters she drew on the page.

Whatever he learned wasn't meant for a little girl's ears.

In the hallway, Zell wiped a hand down his face. He opened his mouth, closed it, and took a deep breath.

"Zell-"

She didn't want him to say it. If he said it out loud, it would be real. If he said it, her whole life would crash and burn around her feet.

"Don't," she said. "Please."

Zell drew in another breath, visibly shuddering, and his eyes brimmed with tears.

"I'm so sorry, Rin," Zell said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so, so sorry."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some readers have skipped ahead to read the entirety of the original version elsewhere and it's fine if you want do that *BUT* the chapters beyond this point have not been updated with the cleaner edited version or new any of the new content. I'm quietly updating the older version but haven't gone on ahead and added all the new stuff yet. 
> 
> More new scenes in this chapter. I cut about half of the original chapter due to redundant material.

The walls of the small basement room showed no sign of a fire, but the man on the floor appeared to have been immolated by an exceptionally hot, concentrated blaze. He lay curled in the fetal position inside a dark circle of soot and ash, so badly burned, bones showed through blackened and charred flesh.

It could have been anyone. It barely resembled a person anymore.

There were no identifying elements left, nothing that said with any degree of certainty that this was Squall Leonhart. Clothing, skin, and hair had all been burned away, and his face was something out of a nightmare. A row of unnaturally white teeth grinned in the beam of Quistis' flashlight and she shuddered, cast an uneasy glance at Seifer and crouched down beside the body.

In the light, something on the man's left hand shimmered. With a small brush, Quistis dusted away a layer of ash and soot to reveal two partially melted rings. One appeared to be a platinum wedding band, the other the misshapen head of a beast.

Quistis trained her flashlight away from the body and swept it over the stone walls. In the corners, delicate threads of spiderwebs moved in the breeze, their structure and occupants left undisturbed in spite of whatever happened down here.

On the far wall, thick metal chains dangled from a pair of O rings mounted in the stone. They snaked across the dirty, water-stained floor and terminated in a pair of cuffs clamped tight around the body's wrists. Halfway down the wall, beneath the O rings, was a dark, brownish-red stain.

Quistis stepped away from the body and inspected the mark. Dried blood, with a few strands of hair embedded in it. Quistis waved Nida over to collect samples. They would need as much evidence as possible to confirm the victim's identity, and Quistis doubted there was much on the body they could use.

"Hey Trepe," Seifer called. "This look like a tooth to you?"

He held up something gray or white with a pair of tweezers and turned it from side to side to inspect it.

"Looks like a molar," Quistis said as she moved to his side. "Roots are still attached."

"So it came out before they torched him."

"Most likely."

Whether or not it belonged to Squall was something only testing could determine. Seifer bagged and labeled it and placed it in a box near the door. They would know soon enough.

"Let's ready the body for transport," she said. "Nida, get with Selphie and have the team break down camp. We're going home."

For the next three hours, after the body was carefully removed from the scene and encased in plastic for the trip to Garden, Quistis and Seifer combed the small room for any remaining shred of evidence that would help identify both the body and the perpetrators.

There wasn't much left to discover, but what they found could be helpful. Nida recovered a bit of a finger, partially dried but with the nail and print still intact. Like the tooth, the lack of scorch marks suggested it too had been removed before the body burned.

Seifer bagged a few fiber samples, a small scrap of stiff black rip-stop fabric, the kind most often used in tactical clothing, and more hair. He stayed quiet the entire time, focused on his work with the same dogged determination that used to get him into trouble.

Quistis wasn't going to leave without ensuring every, single bit of evidence was found and cataloged. Behind her, Seifer muttered something under his breath as she crab walked along the walls and inspected crevices and unusual marks they missed the first go around. She didn't want to overlook a single detail.

Not far from the bloodstain, Quistis found twenty-two lines scratched into the wall, lined up in neat rows and grouped in fives.

Below that, in all caps, _I'M SORRY_.

Seifer wandered over to Quistis' side as she took a photo. He crouched down, uncharacteristically serious, and ran a finger underneath the scratch marks.

"Number of days in captivity?"

"Maybe," Quistis said. "It's off by a few."

"No daylight down here," Seifer said. "Easy to lose track when there's no way to tell."

Seifer nudged a spot on the floor with his foot. Something was caked and dried on the concrete.

"Looks like vomit."

Quistis just nodded and turned her gaze to the half-filled jug of water, and the bucket of urine and feces that reeked of ammonia in the corner. Hard to imagine surviving down here for close to a month. Did they starve as well as torture him?

"Hope like hell it isn't him," Seifer said. "This isn't how he'd want to go."

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this."

"Nothing ever goes according to plan," Seifer said.

"It was just training."

"We done here, Trepe?"

Quists looked around. She would never forgive herself for leaving behind evidence that could lead them to Squall, but she was sure they'd gone over every square inch of the place. The team upstairs had wrapped up two hours ago and turned up nothing but some fiber samples, a smudged boot print, and some childish drawings of spiders and butterflies. They found no fingerprints, no signs of struggle, and no blood. As if the entire place had been sterilized from top to bottom.

"Yes," she said, though not without reservation.

"Then let's get out of here," Seifer said. "This place gives me the creeps."

Back at camp, the tents and supplies were boxed in crates and loaded into transport vehicle. Selphie ordered a handful of Trabia Garden cadets to scout the perimeter for trash and debris like a pint-sized drill sergeant.

A different kind of cold settled over Quistis as she moved about the remnants of the camp, and it had nothing to do with the freezing temperature.

She made a couple of phone calls, one to Cid, the other to Zell. She didn't have clearance to share information with him, but she considered him part of her team – he was charged with protecting the wife of the hostage and at the very least, he could prepare Rinoa for bad news. She deserved to know the truth.

"How sure are you, Quis?" Zell asked. "Like, maybe? Or..."

"Pretty sure," she said.

"So he's dead?"

"...we believe so."

The sun was setting by the time Quistis climbed into the passenger seat of the transport vehicle. In the back, the body was encased in plastic inside a sturdy wooden box. It was very likely the body of her childhood friend, her student, her Commander, and it seemed impossible anything could have brought him down.

He was not infallible and not perfect, but he was strong and experienced, and one of the few people in this entire world Quistis believed might stand a chance of defeating Squall Leonhart besides herself was sitting right next to her.

She stared out the window in silence for the duration of the hour drive to the coast, and she was grateful that Seifer didn't try to make conversation. He focused on the road, lost in thoughts of his own.

Quistis held it together long enough to see the gunboats loaded, and her teams fed and bunked down for the six hour trip. After she was sure everyone turned in, she climbed up to the deck and wept, all by herself, under a cold, star-filled sky.

* * *

Zell met the Trabia search teams at the harbor early the next morning. He wasn't asked or assigned to assist, but he showed up anyway out of respect for Squall. If it really was him, Zell wanted to be there to escort the body back to Garden. It was his duty, as a SeeD, and as a friend and he would punch anyone tried tell him any different.

He helped unload supplies and gear, and when the long, wooden box came down the gangplank, Zell grabbed one end and helped load it into the back of a vehicle. The box was lighter than Zell thought it would be, and he wondered how it was possible that a full-grown man lay inside.

As they closed the hatch on the vehicle, Zell stared at it through the window, said a silent prayer, and climbed into the back seat for the ride back to Garden.

Quistis filled him in on a few details, but there wasn't a lot to share. Cid expedited a number of tests to confirm, but from what Quistis said, this was the real deal. All they could do now was wait for confirmation and hope that they found someone else.

Outside the infirmary, Zell paced the hall as the others picked at cafeteria sandwiches. No one had an appetite, but they went through the motions and killed time with small talk. Two cadets had been expelled for vandalism. Instructor Aki was going to retire at the end of the semester. The cafeteria changed brands of hot dogs and the students were on the verge of mutiny. Zell tuned it out after a while and sat down to pick at his meal.

Hours later, Dr. Kadowaki emerged from the infirmary and ushered them all upstairs to Cid's office. Already, Selphie was in tears. Quistis was stone-faced, but the tension in her shoulders gave her away.

"Is it him?" Quistis asked once they were seated behind closed doors.

"The body is in too bad a condition to obtain any usable tissue samples," Dr. Kadowaki said. "All we could get were x-rays."

"The fingerprint was a match," Cid said. "The blood sample matched type, as well. I'm sorry to say, that's enough evidence to declare him..."

Cid sniffled and looked away.

"I suspect the hair and tooth samples will also confirm when they come back from the lab," Cid said. "I'm afraid to say, it's him."

"So, that's it then?" Zell asked. "He's dead? For real?"

Zell couldn't believe this. He couldn't believe that Squall died chained and helpless. Squall was one of the toughest, smartest people he knew. It didn't seem possible. Like this was some joke they were playing on gullible Zell Dincht, and Squall would pop out of the supply closet at any moment.

And then it hit him that he'd been there when Squall was taken. He'd been there and he hadn't done enough to find him. He'd wasted crucial moments blundering around in the snow like an idiot while his best friend was in danger. At the time, he figured Squall was laying low until the storm passed. It was what any seasoned SeeD would do.

And now he was dead. Gone.

"We should at least wait until the results come back from the body before we announce anything," Quistis said. "If there's even the slightest chance - "

"We don't want to draw this out too long," Cid cut her off. "For Rinoa's sake."

Zell frowned. He detected something false in Cid's tone. Rinoa was never Cid's first concern. She would never be his concern unless she began to develop symptoms of corruption. And even then, he would leave the bloody task to others.

Cid was lying, or keeping something from them.

But what?

"Can I see him?" Zell asked.

"You really don't want to, Zell," Quistis said. "Trust me."

Zell went anyway, and then wished he listened to Quistis. As soon as he laid eyes on what remained of his friend, he fled the room, locked himself in a maintenance closet and cried for almost an hour. With Seifer around, Zell didn't want to be caught crying. Years of being called a baby, of being tormented to the point of tears forced him to grieve behind closed doors where no one could see.

When Zell emerged from his hiding spot, he insisted Rinoa be kept away, no matter how hard she argued. She didn't need to see this. Nobody who loved Squall needed to see what he looked like now, and Zell did not want Rinoa's last memory of him to be _that_.

Then, he demanded the rings. Zell could clean and repair them so Rinoa had something left to hold onto, besides Squall's broken necklace.

"They're evidence," Cid said. "We'll release them once this is all over."

"Give him the damn rings, Kramer," Seifer said. "It's the least you can do."

"They're part of the investigation -"

"Bullshit," Seifer said. "You've already had them swabbed. They're not going to tell you anything else, so hand 'em over."

An hour later, Zell received the rings in an evidence bag. Both were blackened with soot. The wedding band only needed a good cleaning. The Griever ring was misshapen in spots and would need to be rebuilt and re-cut, but Zell thought he could fix the major damage and get both cleaned up in time for the funeral.

Back at the house, Rinoa was not up for conversation. She sat wrapped in a blanket on the couch as Ellone tried to coax her into drinking some tea.

"What's wrong with Mommy?" Ella asked. "Why's she not talking?"

"She's not feeling well," Zell said.

What else was he supposed to say? He couldn't be the one to try and explain this to Ella. He could barely make sense of it himself.

"It's almost bedtime, bud," Zell said. "How about you go brush your teeth and I'll read you a story?"

"I don't wanna."

"Then I guess you don't want to get taller and smarter," he said playfully. "Because that's when you grow, kiddo."

"Really?"

"Really," he said. "Go on. Teeth. Pajamas. On the double."

He checked on Rinoa, who hadn't moved from her spot on the couch. She stared at the wall, blank-faced. Her tea untouched on the coffee table. Ellone sat beside her, wringing her hands in her lap.

"Ellone," Zell said and angled his head toward the kitchen. "Got a minute?"

She reached for Rinoa's hand, squeezed it, and joined Zell.

"She said anything?"

"Nothing."

"Think maybe... you can put her to sleep?" Zell asked. "Give her, you know, a nice dream or something?"

Ellone shook her head.

"It'll only make it harder," she said. "For both of us."

"Shit. Sorry. Didn't think about that."

Zell scratched his chin and shuffled his feet.

"This sucks."

Ellone nodded and patted his arm.

"Ella's waiting," Ellone said. "I'll try to convince Rinoa to go lie down."

Upstairs, Ella was on the floor sorting through books, wearing a moogle print nightgown and cactuar slippers. For just a second, he saw Squall, his body blackened and charred grinning madly up at him from the exam table. He closed his eyes and shook it off, dropped down beside Ella and mussed her hair.

"So, what story are we reading, bud?" he asked.

She held out three different books.

On any other night, Zell would have said no to three. Not tonight. He didn't have the heart to deny her tonight.

"Alright, kiddo," he said. "You brush your teeth?"

"Yeah."

Zell leaned in and sniffed. He detected a whiff of peppermint. Satisfied, he collected the books against his chest and stood. Ella scrambled up from the floor and into the bed, snuggled beneath the butterfly print bed spread and scooted over to make room for Zell.

He perched at the edge of the bed with his back against the headboard, book held open so she could see the pictures and read along. She snuggled against his side and Zell wished he had a kid of his own to read to. Story time had been his favorite when he was a kid. He'd loved when Ma would climb into bed next to him and read stories about brave soldiers and scary monsters and enchanted animals.

Halfway through the book, Ella pulled away and looked at him.

"Uncle Zell?"

"What's up, bud?"

"Why's mommy sad?"

Zell sighed, drew a hand over her messy hair.

"She misses your daddy, kiddo," he said.

"Me too," she said and settled back down. "I think he should come home now."

Zell had nothing to say to that.

Ella dozed off halfway through the second story, her skinny arms wrapped tight around her stuffed t-rexaur. Zell got up carefully and tucked the blanket around her.

If he'd done more, Squall would still be here. Rinoa would not be a catatonic mess. Ella would not be asking him questions that he didn't know how to answer.

Ellone was in the kitchen, washing the tea cup that Rinoa hadn't touched.

"You get her to sleep?"

"She's in bed," Ellone said. "I don't know if she's going to sleep or not."

Zell nodded and swiped some crumbs off the counter.

"I guess I'll be heading out for the night," Ellone said. "Do you need anything before I go?"

"Naw, I'm good," Zell said. "But you don't have to take off, you know. Guest room's all yours if you want it."

"Thank you, but I think I need to be alone right now," Ellone said. "I haven't had time to breathe since we got the news."

"Yeah," Zell said. "I feel you."

"You get some rest too, Zell. We're all going to need our strength to get through this."

Zell didn't sleep. He went to the garage and started work on repairing the rings.

It was the least he could do.

* * *

Ellone had been so busy taking care of everyone else, she hadn't stopped to process her own feelings about Squall's death. It was only when everyone left and Rinoa was finally asleep that it hit her.

Squall was gone.

She would never get to see him again. So many times, she put off visiting, thinking there would be time later. Next month. Over the holidays. Some other time. She should have known better. She had plenty of experience with losing people, and she should have known that there was never enough time.

The walk to the hotel did nothing to clear her head or her conscience. A cold wind blew in from the sea, and she thought of the cold she sensed every time she tried to connect with Squall after he went missing. She suspected the reason SeeD didn't give up on Trabia was due to that small piece of information. He was somewhere cold. There was nowhere in the world colder than Trabia.

Turned out, she was right.

She entered her hotel room, kicked off her shoes and sat at the end of the bed, and only then did she let herself cry.

It took a lot to make Ellone cry. She'd long ago learned that tears were useless. They didn't solve problems or make the boogieman go away. Tears didn't stop people from hunting her and they didn't stop wars. They certainly hadn't kept her mother or Raine from dying, and they didn't stop Odine from performing cruel experiments on her for the sake of science.

Her tears didn't last long. When they dried, she changed into pajamas and climbed into bed, bundling herself in blankets and covering her head to block out the lights from the street beyond the window. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. Maybe tonight, there would be no dreams.

Sleep, real, actual restful sleep never came easy for her. All too often, she found herself lost in the past of someone she'd met earlier that day, a person she'd met in passing a week ago, their memories and secrets open for exploration whether she liked it or not.

She never wanted to know what people were hiding. She never meant to invade their memories. Sometimes, it just happened.

Sometimes those memories were maudlin or saccharine or boring. Insignificant little moments, little slices of life that meant nothing to her. Other times, there were horrors and perversions and scandal. Adulterers, human traffickers, thieves, con-artists, men who beat their wives, would-be dictators, and serial killers.

She never wanted to know what people hid behind their smiles and pleasantries, but sometimes her mind connected anyway and she learned exactly what kind of monsters lived in this world.

Ellone prayed for sleep, but she felt a pull from somewhere far away, a familiar consciousness adrift on some distant sea.

Edea, she thought at first. Edea surrounded by hopeful and sad children, all of them vying for her attention.

But no. It was not Edea.

Someone else. A someone who chanted a number over and over and over in a frigid, dark room. Someone in great pain, full of a deep, desperate hunger to go home.

She could see nothing. Only darkness.

_Four-one-two-six-nine_

_Four-one-two-six-nine_

_Four-one-two-six-nine_

Ellone jerked awake, her chest heaving, her eyes wide to the room around her. Amber street lights spilled across the bed, the roar of the ocean distant and constant. Her heart thundered.

He was dead. They had a ton of evidence he was gone.

But if Squall was dead, then what the hell had she just seen?

* * *

Hostage was  _not_  the worst word a wife could hear.

A month ago, Rinoa believed that  _dead_  would at least bring some closure, but it didn't. Dead was the end of everything she knew. Dead meant she would wake up alone, never see Squall smile for Ella again, never feel his hands on her skin or the weight of him above her as they made love. She would never hear him talk in his sleep or laugh at her cooking mishaps. She would never smell sweat and fresh cut grass on his skin again or get to admire the way he looked without his shirt on.

Dead was gone forever. But it wasn't closure.

She scarcely registered Cid's words, barely felt the embraces of her friends, almost didn't see the worry in her daughter's big, blue eyes.

There were too many people in the house. They talked in hushed voices, hands guided her to the couch, food and drinks were placed in her hand. Selphie's loud sobbing and Zell's quiet scolding. It was as if she was on the outside looking in on a life that didn't belong to her.

They offered condolences and she accepted them without a word. On her wrist, the Odine bangle sizzled and snapped and burned a ring into her skin. She waited for it to shatter into dust, to crack and fall to the floor, but it stayed locked in place, containing the magic that could easily destroy everything around her if left unchecked.

She made funeral arrangements with Quistis. The turn-out would be massive. Squall was well respected. Yes, white lilies were appropriate. Of course, donate to an orphanage in lieu of flowers. The ballroom was fine for a memorial service. Squall would love it if Zell gave a eulogy.

Closed casket. They couldn't even put him in his uniform.

_Sorry, so sorry, he was so young, sorry for your loss, my condolences..._

It all blurred together. Laguna arrived in the morning, Irvine too, from wherever he'd been, no one really knew anymore, and Rinoa sat through it all in a daze as Ella clung to her and asked questions she couldn't answer.

_Where is daddy? When is he coming home? Why are you so sad, mommy?_

For the first time, Rinoa wished she hadn't flushed the tranquilizers.

In the days that followed, Rinoa walked through the house, from room to room as if she was lost or a ghost herself. Zell anticipated a meltdown, but Rinoa didn't cry at all. Something inside her shut down, like a piece of her died with Squall.

* * *

A memorial was planned for the weekend and the turnout was expected to be huge. Zell got his uniform pressed, shined his shoes, and spent his evenings reshaping the face of the Griever ring. He wanted it ready in time to present to Rinoa at the memorial, and if it meant sacrificing sleep to finish them, he would.

He did his best to help where he could. He cooked and greeted visitors and fielded phone calls while Rinoa sat on the couch and stared at the sunlight filtering through the stained glass rosette in the living room.

Now that his assignment was over, Zell could have gone home to his Ma's, or to his room at Garden, but he stayed. Rinoa needed her friends there, someone to help out, someone who didn't burst into tears every five minutes.

She would need a shoulder to cry on when she finally broke, and Zell figured it might as well be his.

Every time Zell thought about Squall and what he must have been through, it hurt him all the way to his soul. At night, when he was alone in the guest room, he bawled into his pillow, the fabric pressed against his eyes and mouth so no one would hear him. Ellone and Rinoa wouldn't judge him for his tears, but old habits died hard.

Word spread of Squall's untimely end, and the world collectively mourned. Headlines broadcast the news in big, bold headlines and detailed the circumstances of Squall's death in terms too graphic for those that knew and loved him. Television news did the same, alternately praising and vilifying SeeD and Squall himself. Some called him as a hero, others a cold and calculating killer who happily murdered for money.

The first couple of days were quiet, but on the third day, they were besieged by reporters. They knocked on the door and stood in the yard with cameras and microphones and tried to peek in windows. One jimmied the lock on the garage and Zell summoned Eden to get them to back off.

Laguna contracted Zell to safeguard Rinoa and Ella, and hired additional SeeDs to patrol the grounds to keep them away, but they were undeterred. They were like a swarm of mosquitoes, hungry for blood. Every time anyone went out, they were followed and harassed.

Ellone stayed too, rather than go back to Centra on the White SeeD ship. They both agreed Selphie needed to be kept away for the time being. She visited, but all she did was sob and wail and nobody had time to deal with her with everything else going on.

Rinoa just stared at the wall, turning Squall's necklace over and over in her hands.

The day before the funeral, Ellone took Zell to lunch. Neither had much of an appetite, but they both needed a break and some fresh air. Zell chose a favorite seafood restaurant and ordered the sampler platter for two.

They tried to talk of other things as they picked at beer battered shrimp and crab cakes, but the conversation inevitably turned back to Squall.

"Can't believe he's dead," Zell said. "Doesn't feel like it's real."

Ellone blinked down at her plate and toyed with her napkin.

"Can I tell you something, and you won't think I'm crazy?"

"It would have to be really crazy for me to think that," he said. "Given the givens."

She continued to play with the napkin, folded it, unfolded it and finally set it aside.

"...I'm not sure he's dead."

"What do you mean?" Zell asked.

He didn't dare let hope get the better of his reasoning. He'd seen the body. There was no way Squall had survived.

"It's strange," she said. "I've never been able to access a dead person's memories before. I tried with Raine, but she was gone and her memories went with her. Squall... I can still see his memories."

"You serious?" Zell asked.

"I didn't mean to to do it the first time," she said. "I thought maybe it was a fluke, but when I tried again, I saw things from the war, things I didn't know about."

Ellone fell silent, picked up the napkin and balled it up in her lap.

"I shouldn't be able to see anything," she said. "It doesn't make sense. Maybe it's just wishful thinking, you know? Maybe I'm actually just dreaming for a change and not connecting with anyone."

"Does that happen? Do people's memories stay alive after they die or something?"

"No," Ellone admitted. "But I can't think of another way to explain it."

"What about more recent stuff?" Zell asked. "Anything in the last week?"

"Nothing that helps," Ellone said. "It's all dark and what I do get is like... daydreams or something."

"But they identified his body," Zell said. "Like confirmed it, with tests and stuff."

"I know," Ellone said. "That's what makes it so strange."

Zell shivered at that thought, and he pictured Squall's ghost wandering around in search of his body.

It reminded him of a story Ellone used to tell back at the orphanage about a dead man in search of his missing liver, after Edea tucked them into bed and turned out the lights. Ellone always had the best stories back when they were kids. Even the ghost stories were rich and detailed to a creepy degree. It was only now that Zell realized those graphic descriptions he'd loved to hate as a child might have been more real than fiction.

"Who's got my liver?" Zell murmured.

Ellone smiled slowly, and then laughed.

"I can't believe you remember that," Ellone said. "You were so little."

"It was scary!" Zell said. "And thanks to you I've never liked liver and onions."

"Don't blame me for that. Nobody likes liver and onions," Ellone said. "Disgusting."

"Tell that to my Ma," Zell said and mimed gagging. "She made it every Sunday."

Ellone offered a gentle smile.

"I'm glad you found a family, Zell."

Zell's family was more than just the people who raised him. He adored his Ma and would happily die for her, but his ties with others were just as strong. If he could trade places with Squall, he would do it if it meant Rinoa and Ella didn't have to say goodbye the most important person in their lives.

* * *

Rinoa sat on the back deck of the house and stared at the rose bushes that lined the back fence. The summer weather in Balamb was too hot for roses, but in the fall and winter, they erupted in big, fragrant blooms in shades of coral and pink and bright orange, yellow and salmon and crimson. And so they were now, blooms as big as a man's fist, a bright spray of color, right in the middle of a world that had lost its vibrancy.

Squall was in favor of planting the roses, but he suggested something more uniform, one or two shades perhaps, but Rinoa couldn't make up her mind which ones would look best so she got one of every color. He changed his mind when they all bloomed at once and the yard erupted in a rainbow of blossoms.

She hadn't told Ella that Squall was dead. She didn't know how. When Rinoa's mother passed away, her father's explanation didn't help her understand that dead meant gone forever. He hadn't explained anything, really. He told her Julia had gone to Heaven, and for a few years, Rinoa believed Heaven was a place she could visit, and that her mother would eventually come back one day.

It took a goldfish named Sunset and a kind housekeeper's explanation about why Sunset stopped swimming to teach her what dead meant. Only then, did she grasp what really happened to her mother.

Rinoa did not want that to be Ella's experience with her father's death. She did not want her daughter believing Squall would come back, or that this was temporary.

But how was she supposed to explain it in terms Ella would understand?

Zell sat down beside her, placed a cup of tea that smelled of orange and spice on the small table between them, and followed her gaze to the rose bushes. His hands drummed on the arm rests and he shifted in his seat, incapable of sitting still.

"I wish you'd say something, Rin," he said. "I'm worried about you."

What was there to say? Squall was dead and it was impossible to find words that could express how awful that felt.

"Are you still mad we wouldn't let you see him?"

She was more than mad. No matter how bad it was, she deserved to see him one last time, to see with her own eyes what had become of him. That way, if they ever found out who did it, she could repay them in kind.

The only thing left of him was his ring, but it hadn't been returned to her yet. She was angry about that, too.

"Ella's asking for him," Zell said. "It's time to tell her. She knows something's up."

Rinoa ground at her eyes and stood up. She ignored Zell's mournful stare. Everyone was grieving, but Rinoa couldn't handle her own sorrow, let alone theirs.

"Rin-"

"I'm pregnant," she blurted out.

She didn't mean to say it. Not out loud, not right now, and not to him, but the words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them.

"...oh."

She was too tired to cry this time. Too angry. It was so unfair. Squall would never get see his child, and that child would never get to know his or her father. It was unfair that Rinoa would have to rebuild her life without Squall in it. She hadn't a clue where to start.

"I... I don't know what to do, Zell."

"You're not thinking of..."

"No," she said. "I just – I don't know how I'm supposed to get through this."

Zell got up, gently turned her around and clasped her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Rin. About all of it."

Sorry didn't change anything, but Zell's embrace was welcome. She leaned into him, closed her eyes and let him enfold her in a tight hug.

"Whatever you need, okay?" Zell said. "A babysitter. A cook, a shoulder to cry on, just ask and I'll be there. For you and the kids."

* * *

"There's something very important I need to tell you," Rinoa said. She sat down on Ella's bed and smoothed her fingers over the purple and pink butterfly bedspread. "It's about your daddy."

"Is he coming home?"

Rinoa's chest and throat constricted. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, focused on getting through this. It couldn't be put off any longer.

"No, sweetie," Rinoa said. "He's not coming home."

Ella placed her hands on her hips, her stance wide, a fighter's stance. Her pretty face was mutinous.

"Why not?"

"There was an accident," Rinoa said. "He got hurt and ...he didn't make it."

That was not enough for Ella. Rinoa could see her struggle to understand what that meant. Rinoa was struggling to understand too, but for different reasons

Rinoa reached out for her daughter, but Ella stood firm in the middle of the room.

"Doesn't he love us anymore?"

"Of course he does," Rinoa said. "If he could be here with us, he would be."

"So why's he leaving us?"

"He didn't have a choice," Rinoa said. She was losing her voice as swiftly as she was losing her courage. "He died, Ella. He was hurt too bad."

"No," Ella said. "You tell him he can't die! He has to come home and be here with us!"

"He can't," Rinoa said. "Dead means he won't ever be able to come home."

"Can we go see him?"

"No, sweetie," Rinoa said. "We can't see him anymore."

"But I want him him here!"

Rinoa wanted him home too. She wanted this nightmare to end, but it was slowly dawning on her that it was really real.

"I do too," Rinoa said.

"You're a meanie!" Ella shouted. "Mean!"

She dropped to the floor and wailed. Rinoa slipped off the bed and reached out to comfort her, but Ella struck at her, jumped to her feet and sprinted down the hall. Footsteps thundered down the stairs, and then the back door slammed.

Rinoa slumped forward, face in her hands, and started to cry.

* * *

The day of the funeral, Rinoa didn't want to get out of bed. She'd held it together long enough to make the arrangements, and to buy a dress, but now that it was time to say goodbye, all she wanted to do was hide under her blankets and pretend this was just a bad dream. She would wake up and find Squall beside her, whole and strong and healthy and alive.

Ellone coaxed her out of bed with a cup of decaf coffee.

Rinoa sipped it. It smelled and tasted like coffee, but it didn't clear her head or wake her up.

"I miss real coffee," she muttered. "Would it really be that bad if I had one cup with actual caffeine in it?"

"No, but it'll make it easier to say yes the next time," Ellone said. "And the next thing you know, you're drinking it every day."

"You make me sound like an alcoholic," Rinoa said.

"Addiction is addiction," Ellone said with a gentle smile and a shrug. "You need to get ready."

Ellone helped her into her dress and pinned her hair up into a tight, elegant knot. Rinoa stared at her reflection for the first time in days and took note of the dark circles under her eyes, her sallow complexion.

"I don't want to lecture, but you have to take care of yourself," Ellone said. "Squall wouldn't want to see you like this."

"But he can't see me, can he?" Rinoa said. "How would he know?"

Ellone's hands smoothed over her shoulders.

"Does that matter?" Ellone asked. "He'd tell you to get on with it. Do what needs to be done. To take care of yourself and your daughter."

Ellone was right, but that didn't make it any easier. It was one thing to say it and another thing to pull herself out of her funk and actually function like a human being.

"Just take it one day at a time," Ellone said. "That's all you can do."

Zell peeked into the room, Ella on his hip. He was in full formal SeeD dress, his hair slicked back and his shoes polished to a mirror shine.

"Laguna's here," he said. "Limo's waiting, whenever you're ready."

Ellone offered Rinoa a thin black shawl as she stood up and prepared herself for another bad day in more than a month of bad days.

The shawl was a beautiful piece, and any other time, Rinoa would feel beautiful wearing it. Today, it was a funeral shroud, something to hide behind. Her heart still beat, she still breathed, but the best parts of her, the pieces that mattered, had been ripped out of her.

"Are you ready?" Ellone asked.

"No," Rinoa said.

"Me neither," Ellone said. "But..."

Rinoa followed them downstairs, bracing herself for the day to come.

The auditorium was decked out in flowers and there was seating for hundreds, maybe thousands. Up on the low stage, Squall's casket sat on a riser, surrounded by more flowers and an obscenely large photo of Squall in uniform. It was not an official Garden ID photo but a rare image of Squall's close-lipped smile, his face soft and relaxed. Quistis had chosen it from Garden's files, and she'd chosen well.

As she took her seat, she stared at the photo, and then at the casket.

He was in there. What was left of him.

It took everything she had in her to remain seated. She used to laugh at the women in the movies, the ones who threw themselves upon the coffin to weep and plead with the gods. Now that she was in that woman's shoes, it didn't seem so ridiculous.

Zell sat beside her as the room began to fill. It looked as though every seat would be taken. She spotted politicians from every nation, other important people, Zell's Ma, a famous actor or two, people from town, instructors, SeeDs he'd worked with, everybody.

The whole world showed up to pay their respects, but Rinoa never felt more alone.

People approached to offer their condolences, and Rinoa accepted them as calmly as she could, but inside she was breaking apart. Every condolence drove home the fact that Squall would never walk through the front door of their home again. Every tearful offer of sympathy reminded her that her life as she knew it was over. Everything would be different without him around. And how was she supposed to survive without the best part of her gone?

Cid opened with a speech about the perils of being a SeeD, and spoke of the courage it took to face the challenges of command. Rinoa only half-listened and cradled Ella against her. This was the last place Rinoa wanted to be. The last thing she wanted was to hear a bunch of people talk about Squall like they really knew him. They only knew parts of him. The Commander. The SeeD. They didn't know the man behind all that. They barely knew him at all.

When Zell stepped up to deliver the eulogy, Rinoa paid attention.

"The three precepts of Garden life are this: Work hard. Study hard. Play hard," Zell said. "Squall was the embodiment of the first two. No one can argue that, but there was another side to him.

"Maybe y'all don't know this, but Squall was one hell of a card player. Didn't matter what regional rules were in play, he destroyed anyone who dared to challenge him, including all the members of our illustrious super-secret Card Club... that I guess isn't much a secret now. My bad. Sorry, guys," Zell said to a bit of laughter.

That was the truth. There wasn't much Squall liked more than to win himself a rare card to add to his collection. Rinoa suspected he liked the collection better than he actually liked playing, but he never admitted that.

"He got to be that good because he worked hard, he studied the rules and applied those precepts to the things he enjoyed outside of the office," Zell said.

Zell cast a glance back at the photo behind him before he continued.

"It's a gamble. Playing cards. Being a SeeD. One little thing can change the whole outcome of a hand or a mission," Zell said. "Squall knew that, and he understood that sometimes, we have to play by someone else's rules, sometimes we don't understand the game, and all we can do is adapt and try to see it through to the end."

Rinoa's eyes filled with unexpected tears and she clutched Ella tighter. Who knew Zell could be so eloquent or so perceptive?

"But I don't want to talk about how he died," Zell said. "I'd rather talk about how he lived. Most of you only saw the Commander. You didn't get to see the man he was off the clock, Squall the husband, the father, the friend. He was a hard man to know well, but for those of us who had that privilege, I can say with complete sincerity, he loved as fiercely as he fought."

A painful lump formed in Rinoa's throat as Zell reached for a bundle of fabric, left the podium and came down to her seat. He dropped to a knee and offered the fabric to Ella.

It was a flag, folded in thirds and tucked neatly at the edges. Ella frowned and dragged it into her lap.

"This flag flew every day your daddy was Commander of Garden," Zell said to Ella. "Now it's yours, so keep it safe for us, okay?"

Ella didn't understand why it meant something, but Rinoa did. She couldn't care less about the flag or the organization it represented. What mattered was that it was Squall's flag. It had greeted him in the morning and stood a silent sentinel throughout his day. It endured, as he had, storms and heatwaves, triumphs and defeats, seasons and changes and all the beats of a life well lived, no matter how great or small.

She placed her hand on top of the folded bundle and swallowed back her tears.

"We will," Rinoa promised. "Say thank you, Ella."

"Thank you, Uncle Zell," she said.

Zell took Rinoa's hand and turned it palm up. He placed something cool and heavy there closed her fingers around it. When she opened them, tears spilled down her cheeks and she wept openly at the pair of rings in her palm. One a wedding band, the other the head of a lion.

"I figured you'd want those back."

The weight of them was that of a thousand stones. Sorrow broke through the numbness and she began to sob. Before her, Zell's face dissolved into a hazy watercolor of sunny gold and tan and navy. Ellone's arm slid around her shoulders and pulled her into a tight embrace.

This was  _real_.

Squall was really gone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first section of this contains some fairly dubious stuff. There is also a mention of child abuse.
> 
> I tried to keep it as ungratuitous as possible, but it's still ugly. If you are uncomfortable with implied dubious consent/sexual assault, please skip to the first break. The scene is important to the plot, but I also understand that not everyone wants to read it.

Squall woke to the sensation of something warm and wet against his face. He squeezed his eyes shut and swatted it away, but the sharp jerk of the chains around his healing wrists sent a zing of pain through his bones. He cowered against the wall, anticipating the next blow or burn or whatever fresh horror they had planned for him.

He'd become little more than an abused pet, and he'd learned to play dead in the face of kindness and cruelty alike.

"Let me clean you up," she said. "You haven't had a bath in a month."

Only a month? Surely it had been longer.

"Don't touch me," he hissed.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

Lies. They lied all the time. Tried to make him believe Rinoa and Ella were their prisoners, tried to convince him SeeD wasn't looking for him, that he'd been declared dead.

He buried his face in his knees when she reached for him. He wouldn't look at her, he would retreat again, into some sweeter time, some memory that could sustain him through whatever she planned to do. Fantasy, daydreams, memories – those were easier, they gave him something to hold onto, something to keep fighting for. Without them, he would have found some way to carry out his own end weeks ago.

The tinkling of water, the touch of the cloth to his skin, the scent of something clean – his senses heightened as the odor of unwashed flesh and stale sweat emanated from his body.

"Leave the rag," he said. "I can do it myself."

He lied too. His pride wouldn't let him show weakness if he could help it.

It had been a long time since he'd been clean, and he longed for a hot shower, soap, something to scrub away the layers of filth, but he barely had the strength to keep his head up. He couldn't stand on his own. His arms were stick thin and what was left of his atrophied muscles protested the slightest movement.

"Just relax," she said. "If you behave, maybe I'll take care of your leg before it's too late to save it. I'd prefer to keep you in one piece for as long as possible."

He didn't fight when she swept the sweet-smelling rag down his arm and rubbed it lightly over his skin. He endured it because there was no other choice. Fighting back was not an option.

Her hands were gentle, the cloth abrasive as she scrubbed away a month's worth of grime, dirt, and caked blood and from his arms and torso and face and hair. He did put up a fight when she stripped away his pants and left him bare and exposed, but he drifted in and out of consciousness as her tender touch and soft words lulled him to sleep.

_….her touch grows more intimate, fingers wrap around him, stroke him and he cringes at his involuntary arousal. He's ached for this for too long, been denied his wife's touch, and he needs release before he splinters apart. Desire poisons his mind as her touch becomes bolder, more intensely pleasurable and he pants softly with each stroke of her palm against him. It feels good, too good to be a dream, and he smells Rinoa's perfume in the air around him. She always knew when he needed her, when his brain was too full of work and politics, she could always coax him into unwinding..._

"What have they done to you?" she asked.

Her voice was too familiar, too close to his heart. When he dared look, Rinoa knelt before him, her hair loose and shiny and her face lined with worry. Too good to be true. They'd played this trick before.

Bruises bloomed across his torso, over his arms and legs like crushed flowers, purple and green and yellow from the beatings they dished out almost daily. Her fingers brushed over them to steal away the pain with her magic. It flowed into him, filled his chest, warmed his sunken belly and eased the tension in his aching muscles.

"Why don't you come home, Squall?"

He was hallucinating. Rinoa wasn't here.

Sliding into fantasy when the pain was too great was one thing. Believing this impostor was his wife was another. The rational part of him knew it wasn't real. It couldn't be. If she was here, she would destroy everything, burn it all to the ground, kill everyone to release him, but there were still shackles around his wrists.

It was a hallucination, and that almost didn't matter. If all that was left of his remaining days were pain and suffering, he would gladly imagine her there to comfort him in his final hours.

_...slender fingers lace through his wet hair and soft lips feather over his shoulder. Squall melts under her touch, wants to hold onto her, to show her how much he needs her..._

"It's okay, Squall," she said. "I'm here now."

"You're not real."

"I'm as real as you are," she promised. "Please let me help you."

 _….soft kisses win him over, convince him little by little that she is there, that the hands on his wasted arms and torso belong to his wife, that the sweetness of her mouth was not his twisted imagination come to life. She eases him down on a blanket, a bed –_ oh, hyne has there ever been a bed so soft _\- that wasn't there before and she crawls over him, leaving a trail of kisses and stardust down his chest and abdomen. A delicious warmth coils in his stomach and he tries to hold her but she slips away from him, the curve of her waist sex incarnate. She loves him, she loves him, and he needs every touch every breath every kiss to survive..._

"Please, Rin," he murmured. "Please."

"I'm here," she said. Lips pressed to his and he curled one chained arm around her waist to hold her closer. "You're safe now."

Squall didn't know what safe was anymore, but as her body pressed against his and her arms welcomed him, he knew comfort again.

_...she slides back up to his lips and the touch of bare flesh against his own is as agonizing as it is pleasurable. Just the effort of kissing her drains the strength from him. The weight of the shackles around his wrists make it impossible to hang on and she slides through his grasp like silk and gossamer..._

His mind is drugged, poisoned, but his body responds to every touch and it energizes him. Pain melts away like warm honey and his body is whole and strong again...

"I missed you," she said. "I missed you so much."

There were no words to say how much he missed her. All he could give was himself, but he was so tired, all he wanted to do was curl up in her arms and sleep forever.

"Just let me do all the work this time, okay?" she said. "You don't have to do anything."

 _...some last reserve of energy swells in him and he sits up, no longer chained, his wrists unbound, and he sweeps his arms around her waist and pins her to the bed beneath him. She cries out as he takes her with uncharacteristic urgency, with one forceful thrust that steals his breath away and it says everything words can not. Her legs wrap tight around his waist, her fingers tug at his hair, teeth nip at his lips -_ come home please come home I miss you I love you _\- and it feels so good, it can't be a dream. He will die if none of this is real..._

Rinoa's chin lifted toward the ceiling and he dragged his lips over her throat, tasted her skin as her nails dug deep into his shoulders. Never before had he loved her with this kind of unbridled, ferocious need, never had he been so rough, but her gasps and cries only spurred him on. She wanted him this way, out of control, begging for mercy. His Sorceress, his life, it was all wrapped up in this moment. Live or die, he would always belong to her

… _wanted, needed, had to have release, his mind is dull with lust as he drives into her, kisses her, moans into her neck to kill all the horrors looming in the shadows all around them. He grabs a fistful of her hair as he feels the flutter of her muscles around him, and the sound of her climax rings in his ears..._

Squall surrounded her, held her close. His heart beat to a crescendo and he pressed a wordless and breathless cry into her hair as he came, powerless to stop his forceful and uneven thrusts into her until the last beat of pleasure pulsed through him and rendered his savaged body drained and weak.

_...this is home, in her arms, and he would never leave them again..._

He drifted, the room around him flickered in and out. Through hazy eyes, he watched a spider scuttle across the floor while her hands soothed him and made promises that the worst would be over soon. She was waiting for him.

When he finally lifted his head to look down at his wife, to kiss her lips, expressionless eyes the color of mercury stared up at him, ice blonde hair spilled across the floor. Everything about her was wrong. Slender fingers curled damp strands of hair behind his ears and he blinked stupidly down at the stranger in his arms.

"What – _No_."

She smiled like someone who didn't know how. All teeth, more a grimace than a grin.

"You saw what you wanted to see, Squall."

* * *

The rest of the memorial went by in a blur of speeches and prayers and fond memories. Rinoa, though invited to say something, couldn't bring herself to do it. She'd lost her voice along with her will to stand tough, and she'd declined and endured the remainder with Squall's rings clutched tightly in her fist.

She followed behind the casket in a daze as it was carried outside by a crew of six. Quistis, Laguna, Irvine, Xu, Selphie and Zell ferried her husband to his final place of rest, an honor reserved for those who meant the most, all friends and family, people who cared about him, or at least grudgingly respected him in Xu's case.

Of all the people who should have been there, Edea was conspicuously absent. It was curious that the only mother Squall had ever known, the reason he'd become a SeeD, had not come to pay her respects. Was it grief that kept her away? Duty to the White SeeDs while Ellone was absent? Surely she knew that one of her children was gone.

Rinoa pondered that as they walked along, Ella's hand in hers. She got the sense that someone else was missing too, and she glanced around the procession, less out of curiosity and more out of distraction than anything.

It took a minute to catalog names and faces. Her closest friends and family were there. Her father, various political people, a mass of active duty SeeDs, the entire faculty. Even Seifer was here, though he hung back rather than join any particular group.

Seifer wasn't the sort to go to funerals, but it made sense that he chose to attend Squall's. They might not have ever been friends, but their lives had always been inexorably linked. They'd spilled each others blood since childhood, and whether they liked each other or not, there was some kind of deeper bond between them that they both understood and never spoke of.

So who wasn't here?

Cid.

It was  _Cid_  who was missing.

That struck Rinoa even odder than Edea's absence. Edea had the excuse of perhaps being unable to arrive on time, but Cid lived here.

She forgot about Cid as soon as they arrived outside in the small cemetery behind Garden. It was not Rinoa's choice that he be buried here, but a contractual agreement with Garden and its operatives required those lost in the line of duty be laid to rest on Garden property, as though even in death, he still belonged to them.

Squall, like so many others killed during missions, would be buried among his own kind and his name added to the pillar in the center along with all the other young men and women who died too young.

And for  _what_? Many had lost their lives in battle, some during field exams or in defense of various causes both good and bad. Squall had died for a training exercise. A goddamn training exercise, and for what? Nobody even knew why he'd died and it was so senseless and depraved, Rinoa couldn't wrap her head around it.

The rage in her heart briefly overshadowed grief as she watched Squall's casket be lowered into the earth. The hole was deep and smelled of dirt and dampness. He would be all alone down there, and for Rinoa, it was almost unbearable to think of him lying in darkness, in a place she could not be buried with him when her time came.

_It's just his body. It's not him._

She'd fought like hell to prove to him he wasn't alone, but as the old saying went, you come into the world alone and you die alone, and Squall had been right in the end.

Some guests offered tributes of flowers and tossed them upon the casket lid. Others offered small, folded pieces of paper, others a fistful of dirt. Ella took a cue from the adults and sacrificed her favorite dinosaur, an orange plushie that was missing one eye.

"So he'll have a friend," Ella explained. "I don't want him to be lonely down there."

Rinoa choked back tears and smoothed her hands over Ella's hair, straightened her headband and let her palms rest on Ella's slight shoulders.

"That's very thoughtful of you, Ella," she murmured. "I'm sure he'll like that."

To Rinoa's surprise, Xu stepped up to the grave, removed the ribbon awarded for participation in the war against Ultimecia and tossed it into the casket. She watched it fall, then lifted her gaze to Rinoa and gave a slight nod of acknowledgment.

Every single SeeD followed her lead and added their own ribbons to the collection of items amassed on the casket. The otherwise silent day was filled with a ratting cacophony as the small rectangles of fabric and metal pelted the lid.

Rinoa pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from sobbing. She doubted Squall ever realized how much respect the people under his command had for him. It would never occur to him that it mattered.

"Pre-sent!" Xu called out, and every SeeD, in unison, turned to Rinoa and Ella in salute.

At her side, Zell faced her too, jaw clenched and his baby-blue eyes rimmed in red. Not so far away, Seifer Almasy saluted her in Estharin military fashion. Irvine removed his hat and placed it over his heart.

If it had been acceptable to fall on her knees and weep, she would have done it. It was beautiful and wonderful and Squall would absolutely hate it. All this fanfare, for him, and he would have hated every second of it.

He'd never wanted or needed their admiration, but by virtue of being who he was, he'd earned this.

* * *

Later in the ballroom, Garden hosted a reception for Rinoa to receive condolences and greetings from their guests. It was the last thing she wanted to do. All she wanted was to go home, curl up under a blanket with Ella wrapped tight in her arms and sleep or cry for the next week.

She stumbled her way through all the well wishes, numbed by the repetition.

 _So sorry, he died too young, yes, thank you, I'm doing as well as can be expected_.

She didn't know half of these people, but they all spoke of Squall's steady hand and his bravery and his reliability in command.

Everyone, except her father.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said stiffly.

"Thank you," she said.

He clasped her hand stared down at her with flinty, dark eyes that betrayed nothing but cool professionalism. He would not offer comfort, and she didn't expect him to.

"This is why I didn't want you involved with him, Rinoa," he said. "I knew, sooner or later you would have to face this."

Rinoa's lips parted in surprise at his stony delivery and she blinked up at him as his words settled in her stomach like bricks. People occasionally remarked on the similarities between Squall and her father, but they were less alike than they seemed on the surface. Deep down, Rinoa knew Caraway loved her, but unlike Squall, her father never learned to show it in ways that mattered. She doubted he'd ever bothered to try.

"How can you even say that to me right now?" she murmured.

"If your daughter married a man like him, I'm sure he would feel the same way. I know he'd understand where I'm coming from," Caraway said. "My heart breaks for you, sweetheart, and I'm very sorry it ended this way. I had hoped he would prove me wrong."

Rinoa turned away from him and fled the ballroom, to the balcony where the mid-afternoon sunlight was too bright and the air too warm. She expected Caraway would follow to continue his lecture but it was Laguna who joined her instead.

Laguna folded her up in a fatherly embrace, the kind she'd desperately needed from Caraway and didn't get.

"Strangers have been kinder to me than my own dad," she said. "I hate him."

"I know you don't mean that," Laguna said.

"No," she said, "but is it really so hard for him to just be nice?"

"I'm sure he means well," Laguna said. He drew a hand over her hair. It felt nice. "People don't always know the right thing to say at times like this. I'm sure he didn't mean it the way it came out."

"He meant it," Rinoa said. She drew back and wiped her eyes. Laguna's hands remained on her shoulders. "His way of saying I told you so. I don't know why I'm hurt by it. I shouldn't have expected anything else."

She pulled away to sit on the small concrete bench overlooking the plains and wiped her tired, swollen eyes. She was just about out of tears, but her brain hadn't gotten that message.

"You know, you're welcome to come stay with me in Esthar," he said. "You and Ella. For as long as you want. Forever, if you like."

"Thank you, but I have a home and a business here," she said. "I have to try and move on, I guess. Squall would want that, right?"

"I suppose he would, but the offer stands if you ever need a getaway. Consider it an open invitation to visit any time you want."

"Thanks," she said. She wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders as the wind picked up. "I know Squall never said it, but he loved you. I hope you know that."

Laguna wiped his eyes and turned his face away so that she wouldn't see him cry. As if she'd judge him for that.

"I figured out a long time ago, any time he said _you're a moron_ , it meant he loved me," Laguna said. "At least, that's what I told myself."

In spite of herself, Rinoa laughed. It wasn't far from the truth. In the years since they'd first met, it had almost become a term of endearment. Squall had warmed to the idea of Laguna being his father by degrees. It took a while for him to accept, but once he did, he never looked back.

"A little bird told me I can expect a new grandkid soon," Laguna said. "Is it true?"

"It's true," Rinoa said. "I'm due in May."

"Did he know?" Laguna asked. "Before he left?"

Rinoa shook her head.

"If he'd known, maybe he wouldn't have gone on that mission," Rinoa said. "But I didn't find out until after he went missing. And now he'll never know."

Laguna hung his head.

"I wish I'd known about him," Laguna said. "I know I would have sucked at the responsibility part of having kids, but I would have moved mountains to find him, you know."

Rinoa believed him. He'd gone to the ends of the earth to save Ellone, and there was no reason to doubt he would have done the same for Squall.

"I think he knew that," Rinoa said. "He forgave you a long time ago."

Laguna slipped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a fatherly shake. Rinoa was glad he was here, and glad he was so willing to support her in ways her own father was not.

"Hyne, I'm going to miss him," Laguna said. "Glad for the years I got, but, it's just not enough."

* * *

Zell found Rinoa alone on the balcony, watching the puffy white clouds above. To Zell it seemed wrong for it to be such a pretty day. The sunshine offended him. It was an affront to his senses, and seemed particularly cruel of mother nature to deny Squall a sky that wept along with those that had lost him.

Sunshine or not, the brisk wind carried a hint of chill with it, the first sign of the winter that would play hide and seek well into January. Warm, then cold and back to warm until the rains came and the island was drenched six days out of seven by a steady drizzle that didn't let up until April.

Every so many years, it snowed. Rarely more than an inch or two, but Zell remembered two winters when the heavens dumped a foot and a half over the whole island and nobody knew what to do. The first time, Zell was just a kid.

The second time was the year after the war, the same year his two best friends got married, and his other two best friends broke up.

Ma always said it snowed like crazy the years that big things happened. Maybe, it would snow this winter, too.

"How are you holding up?" he asked. He already knew the answer, but the silence had gotten to him.

"Honestly?" she asked. "I'm exhausted. I feel like such a fraud, lying to people about how I'm handling things."

"You don't need to lie to me," Zell said. "I'd know better anyway."

She was pale and her eyes were puffy and Zell wondered if she'd eaten at all. She'd skipped breakfast, and they'd all skipped lunch. He doubted she'd helped herself to the shrimp tarts and caviar on toast and delicate cucumber sandwiches offered inside.

He would just have to make sure she ate something before they left, or if not, once they got home he'd force a grilled cheese sandwich down her throat whether she liked it or not. He'd noticed she hadn't eaten much in days, which he might have let go if there wasn't a little one on the way.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" she said. "Something that has nothing to do with all this?"

"Sure," he said. "Ask me anything."

"You never talk about your dad," she said. "I was just wondering why not."

Zell sat on the bench beside her and leaned forward, elbows on his thighs. He purposely kept the details about his Pa vague for years, even while the man was still alive.

"He died when I was fourteen," Zell admitted.

"Sorry. I wasn't thinking," Rinoa said. "I thought maybe your parents were divorced or something because you don't really bring him up."

"Yeah, I don't talk about him if I don't have to," he said. He rubbed his chin and sat back, watching the clouds. "You know Balamb does a lot of trade in seafood, right? Well, there's this plant down past the docks that's basically a giant refrigerator, where they store fish and stuff before it gets shipped off to Dollet or wherever. My dad worked there for years."

Zell rolled up the sleeves of his uniform jacket and ran his hands over his tattooed forearms. He realized he'd never said this much about his Pa at one time, to anyone.

"So it's really cold in there, like, freezing cold, and you can get really sick after a while," Zell said. "Fluid starts to build up in your lungs if you're constantly in it for ten hours a day the way he was. Anyway, he didn't take care of himself and he got pneumonia, but he waited like two months to even go to the doctor."

Zell remembered what a relief it had been to have his father out of the house for a few days. His Ma worried, but Zell had enjoyed the lack of tension in the house so much, he'd secretly wished his old man would stay away for good.

"When Ma finally made him go, they admitted him," Zell said. "And I guess he waited too long. He died six days later. His heart failed."

"I'm so sorry," Rinoa said. "I didn't know."

"Nobody really knows," Zell said. "It's not like I ever brought it up. Anyway, it was probably for the best. He worked hard every day of his life, but he wasn't what anyone would call kind."

"He was mean to you?"

Zell had never said any of this out loud. It wasn't like it mattered anymore. The man had fifteen years in the grave. He'd ceased to be anything more than a bad memory.

"Sometimes," he said and added a half-hearted shrug. "He came from the _spare the rod, spoil the child_ school of child-rearing. My Ma did too, but she had this wooden spoon with my name written on it. Hurt my pride more than anything, and she didn't spank me that often. Only when I earned it, you know, tantrums or getting in trouble at school, talking back. But my old man... He liked to use his fists."

Rinoa's hand curled around his forearm and she looked at him with so much sympathy, Zell was disgusted with himself for saying anything at all. He could have been vague, like he usually was. He could have just shrugged it off, but he was compelled to tell someone the truth after all these years. It might as well be Rinoa.

"I mean, hell, I get why he did it. I was a pain in the ass and I was mouthy, and I did stupid things, you know? And he worked hard to provide for his family, and here I was, this dumb kid that wasn't even his, climbing all over everything and yelling about stuff all the time."

His gaze fixed on the stone floor at his feet. He remembered one time, about a year before the old man had passed, Pa had cuffed Ma on the cheek with the back of his hand. Every time he'd done this before, Ma had whopped him in the head with a frying pan or her heavy wooden rolling pin, but this time, Zell got there first. He'd launched himself at his father, and for the first time, he hit back.

It had felt amazing and really awful at the same time. His anger scared him. If he wasn't just a puny 13-year-old boy that puberty seemed to have forgotten, if he was stronger, Zell might have killed him.

He wanted to, and hell, maybe if his Pa had lived, it might have come to that.

But the man never raised a hand to Zell's Ma in front of him again.

"You don't have to talk about this if you don't want to," she said. "It's okay if you don't."

"It's fine," he said mildly. "It was a long time ago. But, you know? He's probably the reason I react to people like Seifer the way I do. He's probably also the reason I wanted to fight. Gotta get all that anger out somehow."

Rinoa looked at him in surprise.

"That's really introspective of you, Zell."

"I think about stuff more than any of you guys give me credit for," Zell said. "Just because I didn't close myself off like Squall and Quistis did, it doesn't mean there aren't parts of me I don't want people to see."

* * *

Seifer was well on his way to drunk as he pushed his way through idiots who didn't have the decency to shut up about their personal politics or their business bullshit for a few hours. It was a funeral, for Hyne's sake.

Not that Seifer cared much, but still. Seemed pretty disrespectful to talk about profits and mergers when they were supposed to be sad that Leonhart ate it in a really horrific way.

Gods, take them all. He shouldn't even be here. He didn't _want_ to be here. The only reason he showed his face at all was because Loire made him come, claiming he needed a bodyguard to look out for him in the oh-so dangerous city of Balamb where the local idiots didn't even bother to lock their front doors.

"Way to be paranoid, Loire," Seifer said.

"Whoever murdered my son might be after me too. I'm valuable."

"You're a mascot," Seifer said. "Everyone knows Kiros does all your thinking for you."

And Laguna had laughed. They both knew that wasn't entirely true.

As if Loire ever needed or wanted a bodyguard on this backwater island anyway. As soon as he arrived, Laguna handed Seifer a wad of Gil and shooed him off to the nearest bar. Clearly he needed no protection. It was just some stupid ploy to make sure Seifer stuck around for the funeral.

And here he was, for reasons he wasn't entirely sure of. It wasn't like he and Squall were ever friends, but it still felt like he lost something important.

He ducked into the hall in search of the restroom and found himself in a part of Garden he'd never been in before. He could still hear the roar of the crowd behind him, but the long corridor ahead of him was empty.

A little lost, he hung a left down a short, narrow hallway that terminated in a luxurious waiting area. He was about to step inside when he heard raised voices.

"You knew the consequences of borrowing money from us, Kramer, bru-ju-ju," a deep baritone voice said. "You've got no one to blame but yourself."

"You didn't have to  _kill_  him," Cid said. "He had nothing to do with this."

Seifer froze and pressed his back to the wall, crouched low behind a fake palm tree and listened in. His mind was already working, even with the heavy thrum of far too much alcohol flowing through his veins.

"Who said we killed him?"

There was a long and loaded silence and Seifer waited, not so patiently, for Cid's response.

"You certainly left enough evidence," Cid said.

"We certainly did," the mystery man said. "Whatever conclusions you drew from that are on you, bru-ju-ju."

"Goddamn it, the cloak and dagger bullshit is getting old," Cid said. "I told you I'd find a way to pay you back. All you had to do was trust me -"

"Trust you? Why would I do that?" the man said. "You sell child soldiers to the highest bidder, bru-shu-shu. Who could trust a man with so little conscience he's okay with training little orphaned kids to murder people?"

"You financed it, you son of a bitch!" Cid bellowed. "Just tell me what I need to do to end this!"

The mystery man gave a low, humorless chuckle.

"Pay us back in full, fru-shu-shu," he said. "If not, my boss will hunt down your wife and do the same thing we did to Leonhart. Except when she bites the dust, I'll make sure to send her head back to you in a fucking basket."

"I swear to Hyne-"

"Save your empty threats, coward," the man said. "You have two weeks. After that, everything you love is fair game, frujujuju."

Heavy footsteps came closer and Seifer glanced around for a hiding spot. There was none. He took a chance and stepped out from behind the palm and wandered into the room like he was lost. The mystery man came around the corner just as Seifer walked into the room. The man barreled into him and knocked him sideways.

It wasn't entirely for show when Seifer tripped over his own feet and crashed into a fancy, high-backed chair. It was half drunkenness, half surprise at the man's appearance.

For starters, he wasn't a man.

"Excuse you," Seifer slurred. " _Asshole_."

The plump Shumi said nothing and continued on his way, but Seifer memorized the details. Weird, pale yellow-greenish-brown complexion, taller than any Shumi Seifer had encountered, bordering on obese. If this was a guest, Seifer had somehow missed him, but he doubted that was possible. It would be hard not to notice a 400 pound Shumi among the crowd, no matter how inconspicuous he tried to be. Never mind a Shumi that spoke primarily in human cadences and phrasing. That in itself was unusual, even among those that had mainstreamed.

He muttered curses to himself and moved further into the room in search of the man with the answers.

Cid sat slumped in a chair by the wall, his head in his hands. Seifer had no sympathy for him. All along, Cid had known more about this than he'd said, and it had likely cost Leonhart his life, and if not that, certainly his sanity.

All those pieces of evidence had been confirmed. That meant, if some strange cover-up was in progress, these assholes had actually pulled teeth and cut off minor extremities in order to make it look real.

And if Leonhart was alive and Cid and put Rinoa through the hell of a funeral, he would pay. If Leonhart was dead and had been killed over a dispute about money, Cid would suffer.

Seifer would make sure of that.

"What the hell was that?"

"...you heard?"

"I heard everything, Kramer," Seifer said. "You better start explaining. Now."


	7. Chapter 7

"You saw what you wanted to see," she said.

On the other side of the room, the woman with the mercury eyes watched him, a cat that ate the chicobo. Impossible to tell her age in the darkness, but that was less important than what had just happened.

Squall didn't even know exactly what he'd just experienced. Up until the moment when he found a stranger in his arms, he believed it a vivid fantasy and nothing more.

"I imagine, if you were strong and whole, you'd be quite an impressive lover," she said.

Squall pressed his face into his knees and shook his head to deny the suggestion that it had been real. She was fully clothed, and it wasn't possible that she'd dressed so quickly. He couldn't remember her leaving his embrace, and he didn't remember how she'd gotten to the other side of the room.

"What do you want from me?"

"You've served your purpose, for now," she said.

"Then let me go."

"I didn't say you wouldn't have a purpose in the future," she said. "Besides, your wife and daughter believe you're dead. The whole world thinks you're dead. I heard half the planet showed up to see you put in the ground."

"That's a lie."

"Oh, but it isn't," she said.

She wandered toward him and dragged a hand along the wall.

"You were a well respected man."

Spiders, thousands upon thousands of spiders scuttled up the wall in the wake of her touch. They crawled across the ceiling and the floor, up Squall's bare legs and arms and he hissed as he batted them away. They were in his hair, on his face, his back, his chest, everywhere and they grew steadily larger right before his eyes.

"I can make you see anything," she said. "I can make you believe anything. Even the impossible."

Silken strands of web wound around his feet and legs, and Squall flailed to free himself before he became entangled. His effort was weak, and it only served to further ensnare him.

"Stop this," he said. "Get them off me."

"Poor Squall. Too weak to fight back," she said. "What ever will he do?"

One thing was crystal clear to Squall, even if he was sure of nothing else. This woman was his worst nightmare. There were plenty of times during the course of his imprisonment that he'd been afraid, but her cold mercury eyes terrified him. He was scared shitless of her, whoever she was.

Squall gave up the fight and leaned into the wall, shuddering as a tiny army of spiders moved across his skin. This could not be real. This was a hallucination, or an illusion, but it wasn't real.

He would wait it out, let her have her fun, and she would get bored if he didn't react.

"I wonder, how long before that pretty wife of yours moves on?" she asked. "I hear Almasy's skulking about. Maybe she'll give him another shot. Or perhaps it will be your best friend, there to comfort her in her time of need. My money's on Almasy, but your friend is a bit of a long-shot and I can't resist rooting for an underdog."

"Shut up," Squall said through gritted teeth. "Just shut up."

"They're very close, aren't they?" she asked, sweet as honey. A spider trekked over Squall's cheekbone and into his hair. His hands made weak fists in his lap. "Your wife and your friend? I imagine, one night they'll be a little too drunk to make good choices, they'll blame the alcohol, of course. She's so lonely without you there, and he's been such a good, kind man, so good to her and your children."

Squall pressed his lips together as a spider crawled up the back of his neck. Another settled over his mouth and nose, legs twitching against his skin. He didn't know what to focus on. Her vile words or the spiders. Both were horrors that tugged at the most primal parts of his psyche in distinctly different ways.

"So good in fact, that she won't say no when he kisses her. After all, you're dead and he's so very alive," she said. "Picture it, Squall. Doesn't it just break your heart?"

_….they are dancing under paper lanterns, under an inky sky full of stars. A warm breeze lifts strands of Rinoa's hair as Zell guides her across the makeshift dance floor in Balamb's town square. There is warmth and love in his eyes as he looks at her, and she smiles back. They are almost the same height, she doesn't have to look up to see him, and when he pulls her closer, she allows it and rests her chin against his shoulder. His nose and lips graze over her temple, arms fold her into him, and then her face is in Zell's hands, and he is kissing her sweetly, eagerly and she kisses him back, her cheeks flushed and her body pressed close to his..._

"Stop!" Squall shouted and covered his head to block out the images that seemed way too detailed to be a lie.

This was worse than the spiders, without a doubt, it was so much worse.

"I'll stop when I feel like it," she said. "Want to see more?"

"It's all a lie. All of it."

"Maybe, maybe not," she said. "How long do you think she'll wait for you?"

_...Squall stands in his bedroom, his back to the wall. His wife and his best friend, lay tangled together on the bed, bathed in warm light cast by the lamp on the nightstand. He wants to close his eyes, but he can't look away as clothing is shed with haste. A shirt, a bra, both land at his feet on the floor amid soft sighs and murmurs and heady breaths between kisses. Zell's hands and mouth are all over her, and he murmurs, I love you, and she says it back and he kisses her hard, passionately, as their bodies begin to move together in a steady rhythm..._

Squall screamed silently into his knees. None of that was real. None of it was real, not real, couldn't be, not real.

Not.

Real.

But it was less a stretch of the imagination than a possibility. Under these circumstances, if he really was presumed dead, it was less unlikely than Squall wanted to believe.

"What are you?"

"I'm glad you asked," she said. There was that smile again. Shark-like. Predatory. "You're thinking I'm a Sorceress, aren't you?"

Squall had definitely begun to suspect sorcery, but he didn't agree or disagree.

"My talents are not unlike those of your dear sister," she said. "But mine are a lot more fun. I can make your wildest fantasies come true, or give you your worst nightmare, all while you're awake, and you'd never know the difference."

_….I can make you believe, Squall. Anything I want. Anything at all. I can make it seem so real, you're not sure what parts are only in your head. You will never be sure what is a lie and what is truth..._

After she left him, Squall curled into a ball on the thin, scratchy blanket she left behind, and for the first time since the whole thing began, he cried. Not for pain or hunger or for his wasted body. Not for the hellish situation he was in, but out of fear. Fear that he might have unintentionally committed adultery. Fear that Rinoa had moved on. Fear that he would never see his family again.

She'd tainted the one thing he'd held onto to keep from giving up or going insane. His one comfort was now poisoned by uncertainty, by possible infidelity on his part, implied infidelity on Rinoa's.

How would he survive this without anything safe to cling to?

* * *

After the memorial, Rinoa's closest friends gathered at the house. She wasn't in the mood for company, but she didn't want to be alone either, so she didn't send them away. It was better to have people around. It would be too quiet once they were gone. She would have too much time to think, and for now their voices and presence kept her from feeling too sorry for herself.

She sat at the table in the kitchen, picking at a plate of macaroni and cheese and the slice of cake Zell smuggled out of the reception. Neither were appetizing. She needed to eat _something_ , Zell was right, but she only moved the noodles around the plate, sampled the frosting, and thought about how she would never share a meal with Squall again.

"You look like you could use a drink," Irvine said as he took a seat, bottle of beer in hand. "A good strong one."

"I could use one," she admitted. "But, I'll pass."

"No one's going to judge."

"I'm pregnant," she said flatly. "So, I'll have to pass."

"You're what?!" Selphie cried from the kitchen doorway. "When did you plan to tell me?!"

Rinoa pressed her hands over her face and bit back a screech. She forgot she hadn't made an announcement. It was something she should have done before now, but hadn't been able to bring herself to do. Congratulations would be bittersweet in the face of Squall's passing.

Funny, how the thing Squall feared so much had come to pass.

"Sef," Zell said. "Let's not make a big deal of it right now."

Rinoa pushed her plate away and got up. She left the kitchen without a word and went out to the back porch. She fled halfway down the steps, stopped and turned around, clutching fistfuls of her hair at the scalp. There was nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. No matter where she went, the pain would still be there.

How was she supposed to manage all this? A household, a young child and a business? With another child on the way? _How_?

"Rin?"

She turned to Zell and shook her head.  Her hands still gripped strands of hair.  She let them go and held her palms out, unable to speak. 

"You okay?" he asked. "You look freaked out."

Freaked out. Wounded. Afraid. Out of her depth. Heartbroken. All those things applied. This was not okay, and she was not okay.

"What do I do now?" she asked. "I'm scared, Zell. Tell me what I'm supposed to do."

He closed the door and took a slow contemplative sip of his beer as he looked her over.

"You let your friends help you out," he said.

"I can't ask -"

"I told you already, you don't have to ask," he said. "Whatever you need. Don't ever be too proud to ask."

Rinoa pressed a hand to her stomach and closed her eyes. Squall's absence was a gaping hole right through the middle of her, a gunshot wound through her heart, and she was bleeding out. It hurt to breath, her lungs had collapsed, she was drowning...

"Hey," Zell said. He rested his hands on her shoulders. "Listen to me, okay? We lost him too. You're not going through this alone, Rin. We're all going through it with you. Me, Quistis, Laguna, all of us, and we're not going to leave you floating in space on your own, trying to do everything by yourself. That's just not gonna happen. Okay?"

Zell carefully drew her forward and folded her up in a tight hug. Her tears had run dry, but she shook with silent sobs for nearly a minute before she could get herself back under control. Who would have thought Zell would be the voice of reason?

"I won't tell you it's gonna be okay," he said. "But it is okay for you to _not_ be okay, for as long as you need to be."

"I'm not okay."

"I know."

"I don't want to go back inside," she said as she pulled away. "It's too much. I can't stand it."

"Want me to send everyone home?"

"Not yet," she said. "I just need quiet for a little while."

"Do you want _me_ to leave you alone?"

"No."

Rinoa curled up in a deck chair and tried to think of anything else but this, but almost every thought led back to Squall. Ella's birthday was coming up. The yearly taxes, too. The car had started to make a funny rattling noise when she made right turns. The gutters needed cleaning. They had a baby on the way.

She forced herself to shut it off. Right now, she could do nothing about any of it.

Instead, she thought about Zell and what he'd said about his dad. She wished she'd never brought it up, and it hurt to think he'd had to live like that.

When she'd asked, she'd been thinking about her own father, seeking proof that not all fathers were like hers. She expected to hear about a fun dad, someone who treated Zell like his own, and that wasn't what she got.

Something he said bothered her, too. About how he understood why his Pa had hit him. From the sound of it, Zell was just being a kid.

"Hey, Zell?" she said.

"Hmm?"

"You know you didn't deserve to be hit, right? When you were little? That's not okay, no matter how bad you were."

Zell looked at his hands, at his palms, then turned them over to inspect his knuckles. He shrugged and took a swallow of his beer.

"I didn't really mean it like that," he said. "He didn't see it as anything but what was necessary to keep me in line."

"There are other ways," Rinoa said. "Better ways."

Zell nodded, set the beer aside and leaned back in his chair.

"I used to take it so personal, but now that I'm older, I get that it wasn't," he said.

"It doesn't matter if it was personal or not. It's still abuse."

Zell sighed. He shifted forward, knee bouncing. He kept his gaze trained on the yard and Rinoa watched him carefully.

"I'm not excusing it," he said. "But I can't stay pissed about it for the rest of my life when it's something he didn't think was wrong in the first place. I mean, his dad hit him even worse, you know? I figure I got off easy in comparison."

"No, Zell," Rinoa said. "You didn't get off easy. Just because his dad beat him doesn't make it okay to do the same to you."

"I know," he said. "I know that, okay?"

"Do you?"

"Yeah," Zell said. "I do. I've had a long time to work through it, Rin. Anyway, maybe what your dad did to you was just as bad."

"He never hit me."

"Sometimes words hurt more than fists," Zell said.

"True, but I don't think my dad ever purposely meant to hurt me," Rinoa said. "He was a great dad until my mom died.  Then he just... shut down."

"Doesn't change the fact that it hurts, does it?"

Rinoa didn't give Zell enough credit. Nobody did. On the surface he was excitable, fun-loving and kind, slow to pick up on social cues, book smart and short-tempered, but there was so much more to him than met the eye. There was definitely a part of him that was more cerebral and thoughtful than anyone acknowledged.

Maybe that had come with maturity, or maybe he'd spent an entire lifetime hiding that side of himself so he wouldn't be seen as vulnerable.

"You're right," Rinoa conceded. "Even if he doesn't mean it, it hurts. "

Zell picked up his beer and relaxed again. His eyes lifted to the fading daylight and he took a slow drink from the bottle, lowered it, and picked at the label.

"I'll tell you one thing," Zell said. "If I ever do settle down, I'm never gonna be that guy. Not ever. I never want to be the guy that hits someone he loves."

* * *

Seifer climbed out of a taxi in front of the Leonhart residence, no longer drunk, but fuming mad after his chat with Cid Kramer. What little he'd gotten out of the man was just as Seifer suspected.

Money.

Leonhart had suffered, and had probably been killed, because of Kramer's debts.

Seifer liked money. He liked all the things it could buy. Fancy cars and expensive, tailored suits, quality steaks at the best restaurants in any city in the world, cool electronic gadgets. He loved those things, but he long ago decided that money was the second most evil thing in the world.

The only thing _more_ evil than money was corrupt sorcery, and in Seifer's experience, magic corruption was out of anyone's hands, including the Sorceress the power belonged to.

It was like a drug. Once someone got a taste, they weren't satisfied. They wanted more and more and more. So they lied, stole, cheated and killed – anything to get their hands on more. They borrowed too much, fell for schemes that promised triple their return, spent more than they made, and all too often, it ruined them.

Kramer borrowed too much, and from the wrong people, and it was Squall Leonhart who paid the price.

From what little Seifer could glean from Cid's mostly incoherent babbling, these guys were way worse than NORG could ever hope to be. NORG was a greedy, gluttonous bastard, but these people were greedy,  murderous bastards with more than just swollen bank accounts working in their favor.

He banged on the front door and was greeted by Kinneas, who was dressed in all- black version of his usual ridiculous cowboy get-up.

"Almasy," Kinneas drawled. "Can I help you with something?"

Kinneas took up the entire doorway, one arm propped casually against the frame, the other against the door itself. As far as Seifer knew, there had never been any beef between them, the war aside, and they both knew if it ever came to a fight, Kinneas didn't stand a chance. The cowboy was no brawler and he never would be.

"I need to see Laguna," Seifer said. "It's urgent."

He expected Kinneas would leave him waiting on the step, but he tipped his hat and invited Seifer in.

Tilmitt hung on Laguna's arm, her face rapt as he told some war story Seifer had probably heard a thousand times by now. When Laguna saw Seifer, he extracted himself from Selphie's death grip and joined him in the foyer.

For the first time, Laguna's face showed his age. His forehead looked more creased than usual, his laugh-lines deeper. That forlorn look he got sometimes when he thought no one was looking was now a raw, open wound.

Most of all, though, Laguna Loire looked tired.

Seifer debated whether or not this could wait. He had no hard proof, and no right to interrupt their family gathering, blabbering on about something that he wasn't even sure about himself.

"What is it, son?" Laguna asked.

Son.

It always bothered Seifer when Laguna called him that. He just wasn't sure _why_ it bothered him.

He did know one thing though. If he died tomorrow, Laguna might be the only person on the planet who would shed a tear. He wasn't sure why that bothered him either.

"We need to talk," Seifer said. "Is there somewhere private?"

"We can use Squall's office," Laguna said. "What's this about?"

"I'll tell you when there's no one listening in," Seifer said and inclined his head at the starry-eyed Selphie who drifted in their direction like someone had cast a love-spell on her. "Trust me when I say it needs to stay between us."

The room Laguna led him to was probably intended to be a den, but it had been converted into a home office and library. Bookshelves lined the walls and were packed full of novels and reference manuals and training guides. At the back of the room was a dark wood desk with a laptop and neatly arranged piles of paper. In one corner was a set of leather couches and a coffee table that looked like they'd just arrived from the furniture store.

Laguna closed the door and went to a small cabinet set into the wall next to the couches. He took out a bottle of Mimmet whiskey, poured a measure into a pair glasses and motioned for Seifer to have a seat.

As Laguna handed Seifer a glass, Seifer was at a loss as to where to begin. How did one tell a man who believed his son dead that maybe it was all a charade? Without proof or evidence beyond the word of a cowardly man with his own agenda? It wasn't as if Kramer gave Seifer much information. All he had was a weak explanation and the Shumi's insinuation that Squall might still be alive.

He explained what he walked in on, what he heard and the pathetic excuses Kramer made for himself. Laguna was skeptical, but the small flicker of hope Seifer saw in the man's eyes made him wish he hadn't brought it up without more evidence.

"It was definitely about money," Seifer said. "Kramer borrowed more than he could pay back, so they took Squall as collateral. They wanted Edea, but they can't find her, so Squall was the next best thing."

"Hit him where it counts," Laguna said under his breath.

"Exactly," Seifer said. "Thing is, I'm not convinced the man we buried today was Squall. It was too quick and tidy, and based on what the Shumi said I'm betting they made it look like him to send Kramer a message."

"But there were tests done," Laguna said.

"Yeah, on the peripheral evidence," Seifer said. "But nothing from the body confirmed, as far as I know. We didn't get dental record confirmation, no DNA, no x-rays. So what if the hair and tooth samples were a match? Don't you think it's possible they smeared some blood and tissues around to make it look like Squall, torched the body of some vagrant hoping we'd assume it was him?"

"It's possible," Laguna said, "but it seems far-fetched."

"You and I both know, Squall's more valuable alive," Seifer said. "They have nothing to gain by killing him."

"They have nothing to gain by keeping him alive when he's presumed dead, either."

Seifer took a swallow of his drink and stared at Laguna. He was no longer star-struck, as he'd been in the beginning, and over the years had come to respect him, but sometimes, Laguna could be frustratingly naive.

He supposed that was why Laguna kept him around. Seifer was naturally skeptical of people and their motives. He always saw the dark side of any plot. Laguna preferred to see the bright side, even when there wasn't one.

"Of course they do," Seifer said. "They get Kramer's cooperation. The threat against Edea becomes real if he thinks they're gonna rip her apart and send her back a pile of ash."

Laguna flinched and set his drink down, untouched, on the coffee table.

"Whatever it is they want from him," Seifer said, "Kramer'll be a hell of a lot more willing to do whatever necessary to keep her safe. In the meantime, they keep Squall locked away somewhere and use him somehow later."

Laguna pushed a hand through his hair and got up. He went to the window, one hand braced against the frame and stared out at the dark landscape beyond.

"Have you mentioned any of this to Rinoa?"

"Are you insane?" Seifer asked. "I might be an asshole, but I'm not that much of an asshole."

"Good," Laguna said. He turned to face Seifer and crossed his arms. It was very much like Squall's default posture. "Wait here."

Seifer wandered the room while Laguna excused himself. There wasn't much of interest to look at, so he passed the time by thumbing through the stacks of paperwork on the desk. None of it was worth a second look, not that he expected to find any evidence there. Leonhart was too meticulous to leave sensitive documents out in the open.

He thought about how his relationship with Laguna evolved over the years, from the unwanted mercy he'd shown in the beginning to now. Seifer had resented Laguna's conditional pardon, and he'd thought his childhood hero a complete moron in person, but the longer Seifer worked with him, the more he'd come to respect the man.

There was a reason Laguna Loire was a President. He was no mascot, no matter how much Seifer teased him about it. Laguna actually knew what he was doing, but he went about it in such a way that made him seem a bumbling fool because the public loved it. In reality, the man was smart, calculating and charismatic, and in the years since the war, he had turned a fascist, xenophobic nation into a democratic technological superpower.

His people loved him. They loved that he was a regular guy. They loved that he wore cargo pants and sandals to the office. And he loved them back. Sure, there were dissenters and the occasional group of rebels that wanted to return to the ways of the old Silent Country, and sometimes they resorted to violence, but if the people of Esthar didn't shut them up, Seifer did.

Laguna had given Seifer his respect when Seifer hadn't earned or deserved it. Seifer hadn't understood why for a long time, but it was because Laguna liked the lost causes, the screw-ups, the idiots who tripped over their own feet and fell on their faces. He saw value where others did not, and for whatever reason, he'd seen something in Seifer worth saving.

Though Seifer would never say it out loud, he was grateful. His life could have turned out very, very different without Laguna around to let him indulge his crueler instincts while on the payroll.

When Laguna returned, Ellone was with him. Seifer tensed at the sight of her.

They weren't and never had been close. He avoided her when she visited Esthar, wary of her and what she could do. He didn't want her inside his head, and he was thankful that she never tried.

As far as he knew, anyway.

The truth was, Ellone Loire scared the shit out of him. All five foot nothing of her.

"Seifer," she greeted. "You look well."

"Ellone."

"Elle, whatever gets said in here, it doesn't leave this room," Laguna said. "Promise me, okay?"

"Of course," she said. "Is this about Squall?"

Ellone sat, arranged her skirt around her slender legs and gave Laguna a look so bland, she might have been talking about the weather.

"I already know what you're going to ask," she said. "The answer is, I don't know."

"What do you mean?" Seifer asked. "What don't you know?"

She folded her hands in her lap and shook her head. Laguna sat beside her and reached for the glass of whiskey he didn't intend to drink.

"I've tried to connect," she said. "There's something there, but I get pushed out before I can get a solid read. There's something, or someone else in his head, I think. Blocking me."

Seifer exchanged a glance with Laguna and took a seat on the coffee table in front of her.

"Are you telling me you think he's still alive?"

"I don't know," she said. "Some part of him must be, but I can't get through, no matter how far back I try to go."

"Have you tried in the last day or so?"

"No," she said. "There was too much going on."

Inwardly, Seifer cringed at what he was about to ask. Even after all these years, he was adverse to magic, even his own. Exposure to it, even witnessing it at times made his skin crawl.

"Try now, and take me with you."

"There probably won't be much to see."

"Try anyway."

Ellone reached for his hand, and Seifer flinched at her touch. Something in him sensed the power in her and recoiled from it. He did not want her to touch him. Maybe she wasn't an actual Sorceress, but to Seifer, it was close enough.

He endured it for the sake of his own request, and he didn't ask if the contact was necessary.

She closed her eyes and Seifer's vision blurred. The room around him melted like candle wax and his head filled with a buzzing sound like a swarm of angry bees. Everything went dark and there was a strange and sharp tug, as though he'd been jerked right out of his own skin.

There was nothing around them but a darkness, a pit of black so deep it seemed a living, monstrous thing. He sensed someone else there, someone besides Ellone, but he couldn't tell if it was man or woman or other.

"The hell are we?" he asked.

"Be quiet and listen."

Seifer shut his mouth and focused on the silence around them.

Then he heard it. Hoarse, breathy panting, a soft whimper. Childlike singing, the words garbled. The smell of unwashed skin and machine oil.

The steady thud of a rapid heartbeat in his ears – fear, panic, anger, pain.

_"Just let me die."_

The darkness swirled and splintered apart as Seifer was forcefully shoved back into his own body. The sensation was jarring and unexpected and when he opened his eyes, he was back in the library with his hand still in Ellone's grasp. Her eyes were full of pain when she looked up at him.

"That's the first time he's said anything besides his SeeD ID number," she said. "The singing is new, too."

Seifer pulled his hand away and got up.

"He's not dead," Seifer said. "Not yet, anyway."

Laguna dropped his head in his hands.

"I'm afraid to believe you," he said. "If it's true... if it's not..."

Laguna didn't want to get his hopes up, only to have them dashed. Seifer understood. Laguna wasn't the type of guy who could take getting his heart broken again.

Whoever Kramer had gotten himself involved with, whatever their aim, this was not their fight. They had no business getting involved, and they certainly didn't need to be bailing Kramer out of this mess.

It wasn't Squall's fight either. He'd gotten sucked in, unaware, but if there was even the smallest chance Squall was still alive, they needed to act on it.

Seifer made a decision. He hoped it was the right one.

"With your permission, I'd like to look into this further."

"When have you asked for permission to do anything?" Laguna asked. His smile was tired. "I figured you'd run off and do whatever you want anyway."

"Yeah, you're right," Seifer said with a grin. "Kramer didn't give me much. No names, no information on where to find these bastards. I'd _really_ like to give him the cuchi-cuchi treatment in Squall's honor. See if I can get anything else out of him."

"Your version of that differs greatly from mine," Laguna said with a small laugh. "But, I'm going to pretend like we're talking about the same thing. Do what needs to be done. Whatever resources you need are at your disposal."

Seifer did his best work when there were no rules, when he was left to his own devices without restriction. When there were rules, Seifer broke them anyway if it served his ends. And Seifer's ability to get shit done, one way or another, had served Laguna well over the years

"I'll let Kiros know," Laguna said. "He'll ask questions, but there's no reason to tell him until we have more information."

"You don't trust him?"

"I trust him," Laguna said. "But the fewer people who know about this, the better. I don't want it to get back to Rinoa. I don't want her to have to mourn twice."

Seifer agreed with that wholeheartedly. The worst thing they could do right now was give Rinoa false hope.

"Ellone, does anyone else know you've tried to reach Squall?" Seifer asked.

"Just Zell," she said. "I told him pretty much what I told you."

"Oh, great," Seifer said. "He's got the biggest mouth in both hemispheres."

"He won't say anything," Ellone assured him. "He knows it would only upset her."

"You sure?" Seifer asked. "He's not known for his discretion."

"I'm sure. It was just a hunch at the time," she said. "As far as he knows, it was just an echo of Squall's consciousness."

Seifer stared at her but detected no lie in her pretty, round face. He wondered if it was possible that the man they'd reached existed only in a consciousness left behind after death.

"Elle, I'd like you to help Seifer look into this," Laguna said.

"What?" Seifer barked. "You know I don't do teamwork."

"She can help you find him," Laguna said.

Seifer did not want to work with anyone, especially not Ellone. He didn't doubt she had only good intentions. She was harmless, puny, and meek and there was nothing she could do to hurt him physically. It was what she could do to his head that worried him. If she got inside, she might see the worst parts of him. She might make him remember all the things he wanted to forget.

But, her ability might come in handy, should they encounter a particularly unwilling subject. She'd done work like this for the Estharian government from time to time, though never on projects Seifer was involved in. He'd heard good things.

"You want me to -" she began.

"Get in Kramer's head, yeah," Seifer finished. "I don't know if there's anything useful in there, but it's worth a shot."

"See? You two are already reading the same book," Laguna joked. "You'll get along like peanut butter and pickles."

"Peanut butter?" Seifer asked, baffled.

"...and pickles?" Ellone finished, equally confused. "That's really weird. Even for you."

"Don't knock it till you try it," Laguna said. "Elle, you see what you can dig up. Seifer, maybe a visit to Dr. Kadowaki is in order?"

"That sounds like a good place to start," Seifer agreed. "Kramer might lie to my face, but Kadowaki won't."

"It should go without saying that you tell no one what you're up to," Laguna said. "If anyone asks, the two of you are researching a fraud ring operating out of Northern Esthar."

"Nice cover," Seifer said. 

"If he's alive, do whatever you need to do to bring him home," Laguna said. He didn't sound at all like himself. His eyes had gone watery, his face pale. He pushed to his feet. "Get started in the morning. It's been a long day for everyone, and I doubt you'll get far if you try tonight."

That was a suggestion Seifer ignored.

A return trip to Garden was in order, and someone was going to tell him the truth, whether they wanted to or not


	8. Chapter 8

Her name was Thalia Blackheart.

Squall didn't care one way or another who she was, or where she'd come from. He could believe nothing she said or did and he had to assume none of the things he saw or felt were real.

That was difficult. It was hard to ignore pain or the sensation of things crawling over his skin. Hard to ignore the images in his head - vivid memories of things that he was positive had never happened.

"Cid betrayed you, Squall," she said as she sat down on the floor in front of him. Her face morphed into Rinoa and Squall turned away. "Edea betrayed you. All you have to do is tell us where to find her and this will all end."

"I don't know," he insisted, and that was the truth.

"I don't believe you," she said. Thalia-Rinoa's dark eyes were mournful. "Ella misses you. I miss you. Please, just tell the truth so you can come home."

Hyne, it was tempting to tell a lie. To say whatever necessary, but he was under no delusion that they would let him go before they found her. A lie would only bring more pain.

"I don't know," he said. "Nobody knows."

"Your sister is in Balamb, you know," she said. Rinoa's face morphed back into Thalia's, her hair melting from black to icy blonde. "I'm sure we could use her to find out. You wouldn't want us to do to her what we've done to you. She's not as strong as you are."

"Leonhart, Squall. Rank A SeeD, Balamb Garden Commander," he said. "ID 41269."

She grabbed his chin roughly and turned his face, forcing him to look at her. Squall never hated a person before, not even Seifer in his madness, but he hated this woman. He hated her with every cell in his body, every molecule of his being. He fantasized about getting her in his grip, pinning her to the floor and wrapping the chains tight around her neck. If she got close enough, he would try. Even if she killed him for it, it would be worth it to watch the light leave her eyes.

"We're right off the Balamb coast," she said. "Did you know that?"

Squall said nothing.

Thalia took a deep breath, as if savoring the scent of the sea. All Squall detected in the air was the reek of the soiled blanket beneath him and the unemptied bucket of urine and feces a few feet away.

"Wouldn't you like to see your home again?" she asked. "Feel the sun on your face? The wind in your hair? Sand between your toes?"

Yes. Yes, he wanted those things but he wanted his family more. He wanted Rinoa in his arms, and to hug his daughter. He wanted them back so badly, and the one thing that could end all this was something he couldn't give.

"It would be so easy to snatch her up," Thalia said. "Maybe then she'd stop trying to connect with you. That's becoming a bore, really. She's quite persistent."

Ellone had tried to connect? Squall hadn't sensed her, his head did not fill with that awful buzzing sound, but he wasn't surprised she tried. Even if Cid gave up, his family wouldn't.

"Let's go for a walk," Thalia said. "So you can see how close you are to home."

Squall stared at her hands as she unlocked the chains on his wrists. This had to be some trick. She wouldn't unlock him if she didn't trust there was no way for him to escape. Thalia was many things, but stupid was not one of them. She would not take the chance if she wasn't absolutely sure they would not be spotted.

She lifted him to his feet. He swayed, his legs trembled beneath him, muscles long unused, weak and diminished. A bag of bones. He could feel his joints grating against one another, creaking like he was a hundred years old.

He grew dizzy and slid to his knees, breathing in shallow, panting gasps.

This was why she had absolute confidence he wouldn't try to run. Because he could barely stand on his own.

Thalia hoisted him to his feet again and the dizziness persisted, but she propelled him forward and forced his legs to move. He walked like a puppet on strings, with jerky and uneven steps toward the door. Out into the hall, up the stairs. His vision went white, then black, and then white again.

Brilliant sunshine blinded him. After being kept in darkness so long, the light stung his eyes, brought tears to them, and his view dissolved into melted watercolors of turquoise and ultramarine and white. Sea air filled his lungs, and it was as sweet as it was briny. It was the smell of home and freedom and all the things he loved. He could taste the salt on the back of his tongue, could smell the humidity he'd never knew he missed until now.

The ship was smaller than he imagined. It was a double masted sailboat built for speed, and more modern than he expected. There was more fiberglass and metal than wood, and the sails a crisp, clean white against the cerulean sky.

"There," she said and pointed to the coast. "Look how close you are. Can you see your house from here?"

Squall scanned the coastline, still partially snow-blind from too-bright sunlight. He found the harbor, the hotel, the train station, the factories on the north end of town. To the south, rooftops of single family homes dotted the landscape behind the beach. His was among them, but he couldn't pick it out from all the others.

Homesickness and hatred swelled up inside him, hot and burning out of control like a brush fire.

He was so close. So close, he could almost touch it.

All he had to do was make it to the shore alive. That was all. The distance was not great, half a mile or so, but did he have the strength to make it that far?

The sea wasn't particularly rough today. As long as he could stay afloat and luck was on his side, he could ride the currents to the shore.

In good health, Squall been a strong swimmer and in recent years, made a hobby of both free diving and scuba diving in these waters.

It was quiet and peaceful below the waves, something he struggled sometimes to find in his daily life. He knew the reefs and where the strongest currents tended to run, and how close they would drag him to shore.

This was his turf. If he timed it right, escape was possible.

His will was stronger than his physical being, but he would rather risk dying in the ocean than suffer another second of Thalia's cruelty.

Squall closed his eyes and thought of home. He imagined himself stumbling up the beach. He pictured the startled tourists that would run for help. He could be home by sundown if he was lucky, worse for the wear but safe and protected by Rinoa's magic.

Everything he loved was right there, within reach. All he had to do was jump.

He counted backwards from ten, took a deep breath of the fresh, ocean air and threw an elbow into Thalia's face. She shrieked in pain, and Squall made his bid for freedom.

White-capped ultramarine water beckoned to him, a siren song, a promise of freedom. The cry of gulls urged him on, to jump, to swim like hell and not stop until he hit the shore.

Squall grabbed the rail, his whole body trembling with fatigue, and he swung a leg over, then the other, his muscles and tendons screaming from lack of use, and he pushed away, arms outstretched to dive into the surf.

For a split second, he was weightless, free.

 _I'm coming home, Rin_.

Something seized the back of his neck and he was jerked backward so hard, he found himself weightless again before he was thrown to the deck of the sailboat and pinned there. A wall of fire erupted all around him and hot flames licked over his skin, searing flesh and hair, and he glared up at the monster keeping him here.

Thalia sat down on his chest, restricting his breath and his movement. Her hands gripped his shoulders and she leaned down until her face was an inch from his. Bright orange flickered in her slivery eyes, her pale hair painted in shades of amber.

"That was stupid," she said. "Can't trust anyone these days."

Everything around him shimmered, the bright daylight faded, and the flames died down. Squall was back in his cell, his wrists still chained. The weight of her pressed him into the filthy blanket.

He'd believed the lie. He'd believed freedom was within his grasp.

That was more disappointing than missing the opportunity to escape.

It wasn't real. It was never real.

He'd known how easily she could deceive him, yet he'd believed. She'd sold the lie, and he'd bought it without question. They could be anywhere right now, off the coast of Balamb or the Island Closest to Hell or floating somewhere a thousand miles from land. There was no way for Squall to know for sure.

Squall's face was showered in kisses, soft lips moved over his eyes and brows, his forehead and cheeks, and he wept openly as the last of his hope dissolved into despair. She'd bested him, broken him.

He was enveloped in the scent of Rinoa's perfume, of fresh linens, baby powder. He gave in to the fantasy that these were Rinoa's lips and hands on his skin and not those of a cruel bitch bent on destroying him.

He no longer cared what she did to him. Nothing that happened here in this hellhole was real anyway.

* * *

Seifer walked right into Garden at a quarter past ten at night and no one questioned it.

That spoke volumes about how much the place had changed in the years since he'd been a student. He anticipated some resistance, a patrolling faculty member, the current head of the disciplinary committee, or even a SeeD or two, but he went unnoticed as he stalked through the lobby and into the main corridor.

His first stop was the infirmary. Kadowaki would still be awake and at her desk, in case some idiot student got mauled on their way to the secret area in the training center.

During Seifer's time here, it had happened at least once a month. Some dumb kid, his mind poisoned by adolescent lust would be lax in his attention to his surroundings and get mauled by a T-rexaur instead of getting to make-out with the cute girl or guy from Tactics 201.

It rarely happened to the girls, which told Seifer as much about young men's priorities as it did young women's, and it had informed his own behavior when he occasionally partook in the forbidden delights of secret meetings in the not-so-secret secret area.

"Security's for shit in this place," Seifer greeted the doctor as he stepped inside the infirmary. "Any asshole off the street could walk right in."

"Things have changed around here, that's for sure," Dr. Kadowaki said.

She offered a smile and spread her arms wide for him. Seifer stepped into her motherly embrace and hugged her back. He wasn't given to expressions of affection, but Dr. Kadowaki was a rare exception.

For years, he'd believed Edea the most important mother-figure in his life, and she still held a special, if not slightly tainted place in his heart, but in hindsight, Dr. Kadowaki had done her part to fill the role of mother for a good part of Seifer's life in Edea's absence. She'd cared for his wounds, and had given him sound advice, even when he wasn't willing to listen, and never hesitated to tell him he was an idiot.

In his own way, Seifer loved her for it. Or, as close to love as Seifer got, anyway.

"It's good to see you, Seifer," she said. "I didn't get to speak to you earlier today, but I assume you're not here this late for a personal visit."

"No," Seifer said. "Some concerns have come up. I have questions."

"Would you like some tea?"

Seifer was not a big fan of tea, but he never refused when Kadowaki offered.

"Please," he said and sat in front of her desk. "Is there anyone else in here at the moment? I need to keep this as confidential as possible."

"I've got a cadet in room two, but he's down for the count," she said. "Tried to climb the hull to watch the funeral, fell about thirty feet, split his head open on the concrete. He'll be lucky if he wakes up before Tuesday."

Seifer smiled in reminiscence. He'd climbed the hull himself dozens of times for various reasons. Sometimes, he was on the run from Xu and the faculty. Sometimes, he climbed to be alone somewhere no one could find him. He'd only fallen once, and his skull paid the price.

"The last kid that fell that hard was you," Dr. Kadowaki said, as if reading his mind. She sat and pushed a mug of tea across the desk. "You were out for what, three days?"

"Four," Seifer said. "I missed classes for a week. Helluva time catching up."

"You were a terrible child," she said, but her smile was affectionate. "Between you and Squall, I thought for sure we were going to lose one of you to some unfortunate accident of your own making before you hit puberty."

"Me more than Squall," Seifer said. "He wouldn't have done most of those things if it weren't for me."

"He certainly wouldn't have," she said. "So, what is it you wanted to discuss?"

"I have reason to believe he's alive."

"Ah."

Seifer raised an eyebrow and sipped his tea. The strong whiff of bergamot took him back to childhood.

She retrieved a file folder from the drawer of her desk. She laid her palm against it, but didn't open it.

"I assume you're here at his father's request?"

"Mostly. The rest is professional curiosity."

"What do you want to know?"

"Were there any dental impressions taken of the body?" Seifer asked. "X-rays, DNA samples?"

Dr. Kadowaki folded her hands and peered at him over the frames of her reading glasses. Cool, professional, and unfazed by his questions. As if she'd expected to have this conversation.

"We couldn't get any usable tissue samples from the body," she said. "Trust me, I tried. As far as the X-rays, the only comparison that was done confirmed a man of similar height and build. I wasn't given time to do a more detailed review. And Cid felt there was no need for additional exams with so much other evidence."

"I'm guessing there was no dental comparison done, then."

"It was supposed to go to a specialist," she said. "But didn't."

"That's a little suspicious, Doc," Seifer said. "I'd say Cid was a little quick on the draw."

"Perhaps," she said. "But it wouldn't be the first time we had to make do with the evidence we had to identify a body."

"President Loire would like Squall's medical files," Seifer said. "He wants to conduct an investigation of his own."

"You know I can't just hand over Garden property," Dr. Kadowaki said. She sipped her tea slowly, deliberately, and set the cup back down. Her hand fell on the file folder again. "But, maybe there are copies of certain documents that no one will ever know went missing. Since no one knew there were copies to begin with."

Seifer smiled.

"I knew there was a reason I liked you."

"Yes, well, this goes no further than the two of us," she said. "If someone finds out you have those, you didn't get them from me."

"Eh, I'll just tell them I broke in and stole 'em," Seifer said. "Not like there's any security around to stop me."

For a few minutes, they chatted about personal stuff. Her plans to retire in two years, Seifer's plans to remain in Esthar. Eventually, they ran out of small talk.

"Kramer in his office?" he asked.

"I assume so," Dr. Kadowaki said. "Probably passed out on his desk in a puddle of his own drool. He was quite intoxicated last time I saw him."

That was a good thing. A drunken Cid might be more willing to spill his guts than a sober one.

Seifer took the elevator up to Cid's office, a bit of nostalgia tugging at him. He had his issues with Garden, but some of his best days were spent here. He learned to be tough, to fight, to use and control magic here. This place built his foundation. It was partly responsible for what he became.

Dr. Kadowaki's prediction proved true. He was passed out in his office chair, mouth open, snoring loudly, his glasses askew. Seifer shook him, but Cid only smacked his lips, shifted, and resumed snoring.

Seifer lifted his foot and placed the sole of his boot against the arm of Cid's office chair. He gave it a hard shove and the chair went spinning on its casters across the wooden floor. It crashed into a bookshelf and Cid toppled from the chair with a thud and a groan.

"Huh, wha-?" Cid mumbled as he pushed himself to his knees. He wiped his chin, replaced his glasses and stared blearily up at Seifer. "I'll pay you back! I swear!"

"It's not me you owe," Seifer said. He hauled the man to his feet and shoved him back into the office chair. "All I want is the truth. The full truth, not that back-peddling bullshit you gave me earlier."

Cid was still half asleep and smelled like a distillery and stale sweat. Seifer went to the water cooler, filled a paper cup and threw it in Cid's face to sober him. Cid squawked and flailed, and he sat straight up with wide eyes as Seifer tossed the cup aside and leaned over him.

"You awake now?" Seifer asked.

"I told you everything," Cid said. "There's nothing more to know!"

"See, now that sounds like a lie to me," Seifer said. "You don't really expect me to believe you have no clue who you borrowed from, do you?"

"Please!"

"Yeah, I bet that's what Squall said when they chopped off his finger."

Seifer picked up a pair of scissors from the desk, tested them, made sure Cid saw them.

"What should I start with?" he asked. "Earlobe? Nose? Maybe a finger?"

"Seifer, please..."

"A pinky for a pinky, a tooth for a tooth?" Seifer said. He twirled the scissors around his index finger. "What would you say is fair? Because me? I'm thinking all that tit-for-tat shit just isn't enough."

Cid began to cry. Fat tears slid down his cheeks, and his chest heaved as Seifer loomed over him.

What a coward.

How the hell had this man trained an entire organization of kids to be deadly killers when he was such a pathetic wuss himself?

There were rumors Cid had once been an extraordinary soldier. One of the best mercenaries of his time. If it was true, years of idleness, his ass in a plush leather chair had made him lazy and weak. No wonder Edea spent 90% of her time on the White SeeD ship instead of with the man who once called himself her Knight.

"I remember my training _really_ well, Cid," Seifer murmured. He opened the blades. Closed them. "Remember what you did to us?"

Cid cowered. His tear-filled eyes were myopic and wild behind his glasses.

"I do," Seifer said. "I learned from it. I learned a  _lot_. Things like how many volts to use when electrocuting someone, and how to properly beat the shit out of people to make them talk. What it feels like to nearly drown."

A slow pulse of controlled anger beat through Seifer's limbs.

Not because what Garden did to a bunch of poor orphaned kids was reprehensible and cruel. Not because they were taught to make each other bleed in a hundred different ways.

No, he valued those lessons. He cherished them.

It was their blind insistence on boosting Squall up and turning the sulky problem child into some sort of prodigy, while keeping Seifer down through insults and disciplinary measures and ignoring his skill. They denied him the praise he deserved, and lavished it all upon Squall, who didn't even want it.

They held Seifer back in everything he tried to do because he couldn't be molded into the type of soldier they wanted. Even when his instincts proved correct, even when his ideas were worthy, it was never good enough because Seifer Almasy could not be controlled.

Seifer had always been more talented than Squall. He was stronger, naturally gifted when it came to magic, quicker to do what needed to be done to end a fight, by whatever means required. They pitted Squall and Seifer against each other, tried to turn them into rivals, then had the nerve to call Seifer bully when he was just playing the role they gave him.

They made Seifer think he had a shot at coming out on top, when all along they knew fate wanted something different. Sqaull was raised to be the hero, Seifer an afterthought, a contingency plan, and he'd been treated as such.

Neither of them got any kind of warning of what was to come. Neither were prepared for the paths they were destined to walk. Seifer had heard that when it all came out, Cid spent two days crying in the infirmary and refused to give Squall much more than a few sketchy details before throwing command in Squall's lap and running off to Centra until it was over.

"I never meant to make you like this," Cid whined. "Truly, I didn't. It was NORG's idea, not mine."

"What does it matter whose idea it was?" Seifer asked. He tapped Cid's chin with the scissor blades. "You let it happen. Is it really a surprise I turned out a monster?"

Ten years ago, Seifer would have given into his anger. A younger Seifer would have sliced Cid to ribbons in a fit of rage, but he was older and wiser now, and he'd learned it was far more effective to bank it and use his fury as fuel instead of a weapon.

He caressed Cid's cheek with the closed blades of the scissors. The lower half of Cid's face shook and he cringed away from the cold metal, whining pathetically like the pathetic coward he was.

"So, what's it going to be?" Seifer asked. "The truth?"

He opened the blades and placed them around the tip of Cid's nose.

"Or should I give you a nose job?"

It would be a lie to say Seifer wasn't enjoying this. He didn't intend to cause Cid too much actual physical harm, but if it became his only option to get the man to talk, Seifer wouldn't lose any sleep if Cid wound up missing a couple pieces.

Unfortunately, tormenting Cid was also a lot like poking a dead fish with a stick. He wasn't even fighting back. He was just sitting there, sniveling.

"I bet you'll sing like a canary at the first cut," Seifer said as he closed the blades tighter around Cid's nose. "Just imagine how that's going to feel."

"Have mercy," Cid said. "Please, Seifer."

Mercy was a word Seifer barely understood in this context. Cid showed no mercy when the world wanted Seifer dead. He hid in his office and didn't say a word to the press about the responsibility he bore in raising Seifer to serve as a Knight in his place. He accepted no blame for his part in creating an unconscionable teenage killer.

Mercy was Laguna Loire seeing something worthy in a used-up, broken-down shell of a boy and giving him a second chance and a purpose. Mercy was Rinoa forgiving him without question. Mercy was Squall calling off Xu's manhunt and offering Raijin and Fujin a place at Garden to regroup after the war.

Cid deserved no such kindness. He'd done nothing to earn it.

"If I had an ounce of mercy in me, I'd stick these straight through your heart," Seifer said. "But you trained all the mercy out of me."

Seifer released Cid's nose, grabbed his hand, and pinned his wrist to the arm of the chair.

"I want names," Seifer said. "I want everything you have."

Cid whimpered as Seifer slid the blades around the end of Cid's pinky finger, just above the first knuckle. Slowly, he applied enough pressure to cut through the first layer of skin.

Seifer smiled at the blood beading along the edges of the blades.

"Start talking," Seifer said. "Or you lose this first."

* * *

Ellone met Laguna at the hotel for breakfast the following morning. Back in casual dress, Laguna sat at the table, eyes closed with a fork in one hand, the other wrapped around a mug of coffee. Either he'd had too much to drink the night before or he was trying to hold it together.

She suspected a little of both as she took her seat, though he hadn't even finished the glass of whiskey she'd seen him carrying around Squall's office last night. Seifer had finished it for him, calling it a waste of good booze.

Laguna was not a drinker, and for good reason. Alcohol was no friend of his, and it never had been. He required at least three times the amount of post-binge recovery time as the average man, and that was not due to his age.

"Morning," she said as she took a seat. "You look terrible."

"I feel terrible," he admitted. "And before you start lecturing, I didn't sleep so well."

"Neither did I," Ellone admitted. Ella had woken up sobbing twice, convinced that she'd been buried alive. "It was a rough night."

While Ellone agreed it was important for a child to participate in the funeral of a loved one, it was equally important to explain everything that would happen and why. No one had done that for Ella, and it wasn't anyone's fault it had gone unaddressed. In the chaos and heartbreak that followed the news of death, it was easy to overlook the children. It was easy to forget a child with a vivid imagination might conjure things that were far scarier than the reality of what was going on.

"Seifer's on his way," Laguna said. "I'm sure you're excited to get started."

"I feel like I'm only going to get in his way."

"Just don't let him push you around and you'll be fine," Laguna said. He lifted the coffee to his lips, winced and set it back down. "I miss Estharian coffee. This stuff's like coffee-flavored water."

"I'm not worried about him being a bully. I can handle him," she said. "I just feel like I'll be more useful here. Rinoa's trying, but she's in over her head and could use an extra pair of hands until she's got things back under control."

Laguna patted her hand and pushed a cinnamon roll across the table.

"Eat."

He could be so frustrating. Whenever he didn't want to hear something, he changed the subject. People assumed it was because he was scatterbrained but it was actually a tactic specifically designed to distract someone from a sensitive topic.

"Laguna, don't pretend you didn't hear me."

"I hear you Elle," Laguna said. "But I know you'll be more useful to Seifer."

"What if he ditches me somewhere and goes off on his own quest?"

"Because he knows I'll give him the cuchi-cuchi if he does," Laguna said. He poured her a cup of coffee from the carafe. "Besides. He wouldn't do that. Not to you."

Ellone had her doubts. Seifer did as Seifer pleased and woe to the sorry soul who got in his way.

A presence at the other end of the connection didn't necessarily mean Squall was alive. They put too much faith in her ability, and it was not as reliable as it seemed.

A few times she'd run into a phenomenon Dr. Odine called a pseudo-memory. Sometimes, the memory of an event was either misremembered, altered, or had never happened at all.

There was also a possibility that what she was seeing was a projection of her own perception of what had happened to Squall, something gleaned from her imagination, rather than an actual memory. That was less likely, but it was still possible, and it had happened once or twice during testing when she was little.

She'd tried to research her ability on her own, but there was almost no information and no studies on it beyond what Dr. Odine had done when she was a girl. How it worked or how reliable the information she gathered from inside other people's minds were mysteries she doubted she'd ever understand.

And memories themselves, even the ones that were real, were not always pure truth. More than once, she'd viewed the same memory from two different perspectives and got two wildly different takes on it. Conversations were different, one person saw a blue dress and the other saw green, things were in different places, or weren't there at all.

"I'll do it for Squall," Ellone finally said as she considered the cinnamon roll. "But, don't get your hopes up. I'm not infallible, and neither is Seifer."

"You'll do your best," Laguna said with confidence. "Speak of the demon. There he is now."

Ellone turned as Seifer entered the dining room, as out of place here as an extra-large chocobo in a lingerie shop.

Sometimes, it was hard to reconcile the little boy she remembered from the orphanage with the massive, broad shouldered and dangerously handsome man he'd become. No matter where he was, he took up all the space in the room, and it was less his physical stature than his presence. He commanded attention, whether he was conscious of it or not.

He sat unceremoniously in the chair across from Laguna and put his elbows on the table, a dragon that ate the moomba expression on his face. Without asking, he picked up the untouched cinnamon roll from Ellone's plate and tore a piece off.

"I had a visit with Dr. Kadowaki last night," he said and stuck the stolen strip of roll into his mouth. "And Kramer."

"I hope you didn't rough him up too much," Laguna said.

Seifer's lips quirked into a small, satisfied smile and he gave a one-shoulder shrug in response.

"I got what I needed," he said. "So there's no reason for Elle to bother knocking around in his head right away. I'd imagine it's about as exciting as watching a fruit fly in a jar anyway."

"What did he say?" Ellone asked.

Seifer leaned back in his chair slowly and made a show of propping his ankle on his knee, rolled his shoulders for effect, showy and cocky as always. He tore of another piece of the cinnamon roll and stuffed it into his mouth before continuing. Ellone suspected it was purely for dramatic effect.

"Well, for starters, he borrowed a shit-ton of money," Seifer said. "Way more than makes sense and at an interest rate only an idiot would agree to."

"How much are we talking?"

"Two hundred."

"Thousand?" Ellone asked.

The look Seifer gave her made her blood boil. As if she was just a dumb, naive little girl who couldn't possibly understand a word he was saying.

"Million."

Laguna's eyebrows shot up. "Two hundred million? For what?"

"He says he had plans to build a technology development and research institute in Centra," Seifer said. "As far as I know, they broke ground, and then the money ran out."

"It ran out?" Ellone asked. "How is that possible? I know construction is expensive but he could build two new Gardens with that much."

Seifer cast her an annoyed, sideways glance for interrupting. It was obvious he reveled in his newfound knowledge and wanted to spill it at his own pace without being questioned. Ellone balled her hand into a fist under the table and stared at him until he answered.

"He invested a big chunk of it in some memory chip start-up that promised a product that surpassed anything available on the market, but then there was some scandal and the CEO ran off with the cash," Seifer said. "He'd promised Kramer double or even triple his investment once the company released its product. Obviously, that didn't happen, but Cid banked on that return to pay back his debt, and these people don't care that he got duped."

This was all good background, but it didn't explain what Squall had to do with any of this, or how it would help find him if he was alive.

"Who did he borrow from?" Laguna asked.

"This is where it gets weird," Seifer said. "He says he doesn't know who the big boss is, but his contact is a Shumi they call Accountant. He's sort of a NORG in training. Ambitious and greedy as hell. Apparently he runs with these shady characters that are all ex-Galbadian army or SeeD drop-outs. Basically, low level thugs that couldn't hack it, but they're mean and they don't mess around."

"You're not talking about the Blackhearts," Laguna said.

"Yeah," Seifer said, surprised. "You've heard of them?"

"I've heard rumors," he said.

"What do you know about them?" Seifer asked. "I asked around but I didn't get much. Other than they're not anyone you want to cross."

"All I know for sure is that they're led by a woman named Thalia Blackheart," Laguna said. "She's definitely not someone you want to upset."

"Any idea where they hang out?"

"No," Laguna said. "I'm not even sure what their goal is, to be honest, other than upsetting the status quo. They're the ones that claimed responsibility for that bombing in Deling City a few years back."

Ellone remembered that. For no reason at all, a bomb had been detonated in front of the Presidential Residence during a city-wide independence celebration. Fifty people had been killed and hundreds more injured, and the only reason given was _because we can_.

"Is there any reason to believe they'd be after Rinoa?" Ellone asked. "Is she safe?"

"Kramer didn't mention her, but that means nothing," Seifer said. "I wouldn't worry. Rinoa can take care of herself. Besides, it looks like she's got the whole sunshine gang looking out for her, so she'll be fine."

"I'm still worried," Ellone said. "She's grieving, upset and expecting another child, so maybe... We should consider keeping a SeeD on duty until this is resolved. Just in case."

Seifer's expression softened. He hadn't known.

That confirmed something Ellone had long suspected. Seifer still carried a torch for his first real girlfriend, or at the very least, was still pretty fond of her.

"That's shitty," he said. "It couldn't hurt to get someone posted up at the house to keep an eye on things."

"I'll contact Xu and have her extend Zell's contract," Laguna said. "In the meantime, see if there's anything else you can dig up on these people. Find out if they have Squall or if they're just hired muscle."

Seifer reached for his laptop bag and tossed a file folder on the table.

"Copies of Squall's medical files and dental records," Seifer said. "Along with whatever they bothered to get from the body."

"How did you get those?" Laguna asked. "Or, do I not want to know?"

"You don't wanna know," Seifer said. He helped himself to the coffee. "I suggest you find a specialist who can compare the dental records with the x-rays from the body. Someone who can keep their mouth shut."

Laguna pulled the file toward himself, opened it and then closed it with a grimace.

"I know someone," he said. "I'll let you know."

Laguna checked the time and stood up.

"Gotta mosey," he said and held his arms out for Ellone. She stepped into them, accepted his hug and kissed his cheek.

"Do you really have to go so soon?" she asked.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he said. "Duty calls."

Ellone suspected it was an excuse, but she forgave him anyway. Laguna had nearly always run from things that hurt, sometimes until he could deal with and accept them, but some things he would avoid forever.

"So, how are we going to do this?" Ellone asked Seifer after Laguna had gone. "Since you already took care of Cid."

"You're still going to try and get in his head," Seifer said. "Pick his brain for anything he conveniently forgot to mention."

"I don't want to do it here," she said. "And I need to look in on Rinoa and let her know I won't be staying."

"Take your time."

Seifer whipped out a laptop and focused his attention on the screen. Ellone took that as a dismissal. Seifer didn't even glance at her as she left the table.

Rinoa decided to go to work instead of sitting around the house feeling sorry for herself. Ellone understood and respected her decision, but she also thought Rinoa needed a little more time to herself, to get things in order before she dove back in.

It wasn't Ellone's place to judge her choice, especially after she'd told Rinoa Squall would want her to get on with it. If going to work helped, then so be it.

Ellone entered the bookstore, which was more crowded than she expected. Rinoa was behind the counter, serving pastries and coffee as they were ordered to help clear the line. Ellone lifted her hand and waved to let Rinoa know she was there, then moved to the far side of the room to look at the selection of magazines.

Someone tapped her shoulder and Ellone turned around to face a young woman in her early twenties. The girl tucked strands of long, silvery blonde hair behind her ears and cast her eyes shyly at the floor.

There was something familiar about her, but Ellone couldn't place what it was.

"Sorry to bother you," she said. "I'm trying to find the hotel and I got a little turned around."

Ellone frowned at the girl, positive they'd met before, but she couldn't recall where or when. Her gut told her to pay attention, and as Ellone inspected her, she was deeply unsettled by her strange, quicksilver eyes.

"I was wondering if you could show me?" she asked. "Point me in the right direction?"

"Sure," Ellone said. "Hang a left out the door, go to the end of the street and take a right. Hotel's at the bottom of the hill. Can't miss it."

The woman cast her eyes at the floor again and clasped her hands behind her back. Ellone was reminded of a young Rinoa when she was feeling out of her depth. It should have been endearing, but it wasn't. It was too practiced to be genuine.

"I... I don't want to get lost again," she said.

Against her better judgment, Ellone shrugged and motioned for her to follow.

* * *

Seifer left the hotel to meet with Xu, the absolute last person he wanted to see or have to question. If it hadn't been necessary to find out how much she knew and whether she was involved in Cid's mess or not, he would have avoided it altogether. She found Seifer repugnant and cocky, he found her arrogant and intolerable. Probably because they were more alike than either cared to admit.

As he stepped out into the bright morning, a woman's scream shot through the otherwise quiet Balamb morning. Seifer swiveled toward the sound, just as a big, burly man hoisted a shrieking Ellone over his shoulder. Ellone flailed and kicked and used her elbows and knees to break free, techniques that were familiar to Seifer, but had no impact on the man.

Beside him was a woman, or what Seifer thought was a woman. It was hard to tell. She was blurry, and the shape of her kept changing. Tall, short, light, dark. He blinked in confusion, but shrugged it off as the pair began their descent to the harbor with the screeching Ellone still fighting to free herself.

"Shut her up," the woman-blur barked, "before you get everyone in town out here."

"Goddamn it," Seifer muttered.

This was why he didn't work as a team. This was why he didn't want Ellone working with him. By himself, Seifer was only accountable for his own well being. Partners, especially partners that had little-to-no formal training were more trouble than they were worth.

With a grunt, Seifer dropped his laptop bag on the sidewalk and sprinted toward them.

Seifer poured on the speed as the pair turned down the bend to the harbor, Ellone still kicking and screaming. He caught up to them, dove at the man's legs and tackled him. Ellone hit the ground hard, and her scream was cut short as her head smacked the cobblestones.

The man threw Seifer off, swung his arm out and bashed Seifer in the nose with his elbow. Sparks of pain flared through his face and he was momentarily blinded by the blow. His eyes watered, and blood began to pour from one of his nostrils, but he got up as the pair fled in the direction of the harbor.

He could have chased them, but if there were more lurking about, he didn't want to leave Ellone by herself, only to be snatched up again. That was a risk he was not willing to take, and it had nothing to do with teamwork. Ellone was a valuable hostage.

She sat on the ground, a hand pressed to the back of her head.

"You alright?" he asked.

"I think so," she said. She looked up at him blearily. "Your nose."

Seifer wiped blood away from his mouth and chin, looked at it and shrugged.

"I'll live," he said. "What the hell just happened?"

"I'm not sure," she said. She shook her head and went pale. "The girl asked for directions to the hotel, so I walked her..."

"What did she look like?"

"You saw her."

"No, I didn't," he said. "Describe her to me."

"A little taller than Rinoa, pale blonde hair, silver eyes, maybe twenty?"

Ellone had just described Thalia Blackheart.

Would they really be so stupid as to show up in Balamb the day after the funeral? Or try to snatch Ellone right off the street in broad daylight? That went against what little he knew about them. Then again, they were bold enough to bomb Deling City without cause or explanation.

"Can you stand?" Seifer asked.

"I think so," she said. He offered his hand and helped her to her feet. "Thanks. For stopping them."

"Hmm," Seifer grunted. "Leonhart never showed you how to fight off an attacker?"

"...they taught me self-defense on the White SeeD ship, but, I'm not really a match for a guy that big," she said in a small voice.

"That's a bunch of crap," Seifer said. "Anyone ever bother to give you weapons training?"

"No."

"Hyne," he muttered. "If we're gonna be working together, I can't be having you damsel-out on me every five minutes. I don't have time to play hero, so this afternoon, you're gonna learn how to take care of yourself. But first, let's get cleaned up. I want to show you something and then I gotta go meet the pointy-faced witch-beast about Cid's investments."

"Witch beast?" Ellone asked. She shook her head. "Never mind."

Back in Seifer's hotel room, he opened up the laptop on the bed and called up a handful of blurry photos for Ellone to look at.

"Is this the woman you talked to?"

Ellone nodded. "That's her."

"You're sure?"

"I wouldn't forget those eyes," she said. She bit her lip, worry creasing her brow. "There was something familiar about her, but I'm sure we've never met."

"Explain," he said.

"I can't." 

Seifer sat down on the edge of the bed, grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and dabbed at his busted nose. It came away bloody.

Squall had given Seifer his first bloody nose. In the hall outside the dormitory when Seifer was twelve.

Seifer had been picking on him, and though Squall usually ignored Seifer unless he got physical, that time he'd shut Seifer up by using his Level One Strategy Guide as a weapon and whacked him good and hard across the face. It was the first time Squall had struck first, and he earned himself a bit of respect from Seifer that day.

Why Seifer was thinking about this now? He had other, more pressing issues besides reminiscing about the time Squall bashed him in the face with a training manual.

"Do you think the Blackhearts have Squall?" Ellone asked.

"They're thugs, not loan sharks." 

"So?"

"I'm guessing whoever Cid borrowed from paid them to bring him in," Seifer said. 

"You don't think we should go track them down?"

"Probably long gone by now. Besides, they're not gonna give us an honest answer," Seifer said. "Now that you've met her, do you think you can get in her head? Get some answers that way?"

Ellone nodded, but her posture said she didn't want to.

"You afraid of her?"

"Yes."

"You should be," Seifer said. "There's a reason she tried to get a hold of you, and I'm betting it wasn't to be friends."

Ellone stared at him.

"People have been after me my whole life, and it's never been because they want to be friends."

"Then you should have known better than to go wander around town with a stranger."

"I was trying to be nice."

"Nice will get you killed," Seifer said. "From now on, you pretend everyone you encounter is the enemy and you don't leave my sight. If I tell you to run, you move your ass. If I tell you to shut up, you close your trap right quick, if I say jump you better fucking jump, do you understand?"

Ellone's eyes narrowed and she stood up, smoothed down her dress and looked up at him with a cold disinterest that rivaled the best in Squall's arsenal of frosty expressions.

"You are not my commander," she said. "I'll trust your judgment in a fight but you just remember, I changed your diapers, Seifer Almasy, and I've been through and have seen just as many bad things in my life as you, so if you think you can boss me around, you're going to be very disappointed."

Seifer flashed her his most playful grin.

"So, you're saying you touched my butt?"

"Gross."

With an even broader smile, he leaned over her. It was fun getting her all riled up. If he was stuck with her, he might as well enjoy it.

"Wanna touch it now?"

Ellone shoved him away, her pretty face twisted in a scowl. Seifer cackled and flopped back on the bed, but regretted it when it made his broken nose throb and bleed anew.

"Oww," he muttered.

"You brought that on yourself," Ellone said as she turned away from him and went to the bathroom for first aid supplies. She returned with a potion and a wash cloth. "Here. Clean yourself up. I'm going to get some ice for my head."

"If you're not back in five minutes, I'll assume you've been kidnapped again," he said. "And I'm not coming after you this time."

As she left, Seifer got up, opened the door a crack and watched her go down the hall to the ice machine.

Just in case.


	9. Chapter 9

Cid disappeared a week and a half later. He left a note on his desk, saying he was going on an extended leave and would be back when he was back.

Seifer wasn't surprised, but everyone else was.

Quistis and Xu both knew about Cid's plan to build a school of technology in Centra, but neither knew much about where the funds for it came from. Quistis was under the impression Cid had partnered with Esthar. Xu had been told the money came from a wealthy Galbadian benefactor. Neither gave it much thought.

Due to Cid's absence and his debts, the future of Balamb Garden was up in the air. There was no shortage of work, but the cost of operations was at an all time high, with a surplus of highly ranked SeeDs on the payroll and half of its students listed as wards. His creditors were likely to seize control any day, and on Seifer and Laguna's advice, Xu and Quistis prepared for that possibility.

Seifer didn't care one way or another how they handled it. He was more concerned that he had almost nothing to go on. Every direction he turned, they ran into a dead end.

Ellone tried to connect with both Squall and Thalia but was rebuffed every time. Sometimes, she heard Squall. Most of the time she didn't. The one time she took Seifer with her, it was just darkness like before, Squall repeating his name, rank and ID number over and over until they were forced back.

"It doesn't mean he's alive," Ellone said.

"Then what the hell are we picking up on?" Seifer asked. "His ghost running around somewhere repeating his stats like a goddamned broken record?"

"I told you, I don't know."

"Listen, one of the first things they taught us during hostage training was to give only our NRI if they try to get information out of us," Seifer said. "I know Squall. I tortured the asshole myself and he didn't give me shit. Even if they cut of his entire fucking hand, he'd follow that directive to the letter."

"It still doesn't mean he's alive," she said.

"What, you want to give up then?"

"No," she said. "I don't want to give up. I just don't think relying on what I do or don't see is going to get us anywhere. We need proof."

Seifer threw his hands up in the air.

"What do you think we've been doing the last two weeks, El? I can't pull proof out of my ass, you know."

"Will you calm down?" Ellone said, in that maddeningly calm way of hers. "I'm just as frustrated as you are."

"Try again," he said. "Keep trying until you find something."

She didn't say there might not be anything to find, but he saw it in her eyes. Trying again and again to connect exhausted her. He knew that, too, but he wasn't ready to give up yet.

Seifer didn't know why this mattered so much, but he was driven to keep going, and he was not the sort to stop once he put his mind to a task. One way or another, he was going to finish this, but with nothing happening and no new information, Seifer was on edge.

The only interesting information came a week later, from Laguna in regards to Squall's records.

"It wasn't a match," Laguna said. "Not even close. In fact, he didn't even really need to do a full comparison. The x-rays from the body showed the guy had all four wisdom teeth. Squall had his pulled when he was twenty."

"So the body we brought back wasn't him."

"There's no way it could have been," Laguna said. "Unless Squall spontaneously re-grew four teeth."

"Then there's actually a chance he's alive?"

"I'd say so," Laguna said.

"Good to know we're not chasing a phantom," Seifer said.

With this information, Seifer's resolve tripled, as did his irritation with their lack of progress. He couldn't find any information or a way to contact the Blackhearts, Ellone couldn't connect with anyone who mattered. They were getting nowhere. The longer they bumbled around doing nothing, the less likely it was that they would find Squall alive.

Two days later, they were still stuck in the same place with no new leads to follow. Seifer sat down at the table in his hotel room and opened his laptop, wondering if a search of missing persons might lead them to the man they buried. He doubted he would find anything, but it was worth looking into.

Ellone sat by the window, her eyes closed, doing nothing as far as he could tell.

He scowled and hit the button to connect to Esthar's information database. A message popped up.

_Signal not found._

Seifer frowned and hit the button again.

Nothing.

He spit out a curse and stood up, kicked at the wastebasket beside the table and sent it flying. It bounced off the wall and rolled on its side, spilling crumpled bits of paper and empty take-out containers.

Ellone opened her eyes and gave him a look he sensed she reserved only for naughty children.

"Seifer, stop acting like a giant man-baby just because things aren't going the way you want them to," Ellone said. "It doesn't help anything."

As if anything _she'd_ done so far helped. The rational part of him understood that it wasn't her fault, but the part of him that demanded results felt slighted, even cheated by her inability to get anything useful out of anybody involved.

He stared back coldly. She refused to break eye contact.

"Hey, peanut gallery. Zip it," he said nastily. "Or better yet, make yourself useful and go get us some lunch."

Ellone cocked her head at him, eyes narrowed.

"Go get your own lunch," she said. "I'm not your maid."

"Then find us something we can use!"

"Use your indoor voice, Seifer."

"Fuck you, Elle.  I'm not one of your kids." 

"And I told you, I'm not one of your troops," she said.  "And anyway, I have an idea if you're willing to stop throwing a tantrum and listen."

She folded her hands in her lap.  Seifer forced himself to ignore the dig.  

"Well?"

"How about I book us passage to Trabia?" she asked.

"What the hell for? We already searched half the continent."

"I was thinking a visit to Shumi Village is as good a place to start as anywhere," she said. "They might have some information on Accountant. If we're lucky, they might even be able to tell us where to find him."

Seifer had to admit, it was the best idea either of them had so far. At some point in his life, Accountant must have lived in the Shumi Village. They must have known him before he started to evolve.

"Do it," Seifer said. "I'm gonna go get some coffee and something to eat."

"Bring me back a turkey wrap," Ellone said without looking at him. She punched buttons on her phone and stared out the window. "No mayonnaise, please."

Seifer clenched his fists and stalked from the room.

Downstairs, he ordered a burger and a turkey wrap, with extra mayo.

* * *

Ellone got passage on a freighter headed for Trabia the next day. Quarters were in short supply, so they had to share a bunk in a room the size of a closet. Not that they spent much time in it. Seifer used the downtime time to continue Ellone's training on the deck between containers.

He'd taken a chance and decided a close range weapon was best for her. She wasn't strong, but she was fast, and in Seifer's experience, the small speedy ones were not to be underestimated.

Case in point: the Chicken-Wuss. Dincht was five-foot-five feet of short angry idiot and weighed nothing. He was dangerous to absolutely no one at at a distance, but if someone let him get inside, they were dog meat.

Seifer was betting on the same being true of Ellone with some practice. She seemed calm and collected and totally unflappable on the surface, but he sensed a deep well of buried rage inside her. If he could tap that anger, he might even make her deadly in close quarters.

Ellone trained with a pair of thin, curved blades with a hooked notch near the tip, called Hyne's Talons. They didn't look like much, but they could tear someone open without a lot of effort, and they were the perfect weapon for a small, quick woman with little to no battle experience.

"Attack me," he said. "Try to break my defense."

For twenty minutes or so, he deflected her attempts to hit him without much effort.

"Are you even trying?" he said. "I said _hit me_."

Ellone's pretty face twisted in a sneer, tired but not ready to give up. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead. Her cheeks flushed a healthy pink.

"You wanna quit?"

"No."

"Then stop fucking around and _do_ something," Seifer said. "This ain't yoga class."

Something in her eyes went hard as flint. Her hands tightened around the leather grips of the Talons.

There. _There_ it was.

She lunged forward and sliced at him. Seifer stepped out of the way and batted one of her blades from her hand with an easy swipe of his Hyperion. It clattered to the deck and she seized it up, circling around him, her teeth bared.

"That it?"

She tried again. Seifer feinted to the left, then the right, and pivoted around behind her. Just for fun, he smacked the back of her thighs with the flat edge of his blade. She growled and spun on him, slashing wildly at him, backing him toward a crate. He defended himself, but her attacks were coming so fast, he had difficulty keeping up.

Ellone brought one blade down in a vertical slice and Seifer lifted Hyperion to deflect it, only to feel the bite of her other Talon against his side. The hooked notch tore into his skin, ripping a shallow trench across his stomach.

Seifer hissed and jumped back, pawing at the growing stain on his shirt.

"That actually hurt a little, El," he said.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Here, let me get a potion."

Seifer brushed her off with a grin and a light shove.

"You're sorry because you did what I told you to do?" he asked. "You don't ever apologize for stabbing someone that's trying to kill you. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Ellone chewed her lip.

"Don't apologize," Seifer said again. "Ever. For anything. Apologies are a waste of breath, especially when deep down, you're not fuckin' sorry at all. Anyway, it was a compliment," he lifted the edge of his shirt to show off the wound she inflicted. "And I shouldn't have to piss you off to get you to cut me. You're already pissed -"

"I'm not," Ellone cut in.

"Bullshit," Seifer said. "You're not a saint. I know you're pissed."

Her hands curled into fists at her sides.

"I am not pissed."

Seifer stuffed his hands into his pockets and ignored the trickle of blood down his side. He laughed instead of pointing out the grocery list of things she had every right to be furious about.

She collected her blades from the deck, wiped them clean and stalked off toward the cabin.

Back in the room, Seifer sat on the bottom bunk, and ducked to avoid bashing his head on the frame above as he stripped off his shirt and wadded it up against his wound. Ellone tossed him a potion from her bag and sat at the small table pushed against the wall opposite the bunk.

"White SeeD training was different," Ellone said. "They used dummy weapons with each other."

"What's the point of that?"

"So they don't make each other bleed?"

"Mmm, well, Squall and I used live weapons from about age ten on," Seifer said as he applied the potion to his wound. "They were pretty blunt, and we weren't supposed to cut each other, but we did."

Ellone's gaze fell on the faded scar between Seifer's eyes and he stared back at her until she looked elsewhere.

Elsewhere was right in the eye.

"You're not the jerk you pretend to be," she said.

"Just because you wiped my butt when we were kids doesn't mean you know me."

She gave him a small, tight smile. That smile didn't reach her eyes.

"You were a cute baby. A little over a year old when Squall and I got there," she said. "You had these adorable chubby little cheeks. Fat rolls. Just this little ball of energy that demanded everyone's attention all the time. So determined and stubborn." she sighed and shook her head. "And you had this belly laugh that was infectious, but when you really got going you sounded like a cartoon villain on helium."

Seifer frowned as Ellone smiled to herself at the memory.

"What's your point?"

"I knew you were going to grow up and do extraordinary things," she said.

"Like become the world's enemy?"

"I didn't say good things," she said. "Did I?"

Half the time Ellone was the most insufferable, infuriating creature Seifer had ever met, stubborn and full of sass, and the other half she was an enigma. She was one of maybe two people in this entire world that could completely unnerve him without even trying.

They stared at one another for nearly half a minute before she spoke again.

"I know you think there's no redemption for what you did," she said. "But, if that's true, why are you here?"

A chill went down Seifer's spine and he abruptly stood and began to pack his bag. They would arrive in Trabia by sundown, and it was an hour walk in the cold from the port to Shumi Village.

"You don't know me," he repeated. "Get your shit together. We dock in thirty."

Ellone said nothing more, but he caught her watching as he shoved his laptop into his bag and zipped it closed. It was hard to read her expression, but time spent with her didn't lessen his mild fear of her. Even with his teasing and her sass, that hadn't gone away.

Maybe it never would.

* * *

As soon as the freighter made port, they set off for the Shumi Village, dressed for the cold and prepared to fight off monsters along the way. The sun had already set, and Seifer was not looking forward to traveling on foot through unfamiliar territory in darkness.

Ellone held her own and didn't lag behind or hold back when it came to fighting off monsters along the road. Seifer made short work of the tougher ones and let Ellone practice on the smaller ones, but he didn't let her play too long. It was damn cold out and he was having flashbacks to the entire month he spent knocking around in below freezing temperatures, day in and day out.

The walk was shorter than Seifer anticipated. In less than an hour, they arrived at a glass dome set between outcroppings of rock at the base of a mountain. A pair of Shumi welcomed them inside and asked them the purpose of their visit.

"We would like to see Elder," Ellone said. "We're here on behalf of Laguna Loire."

"Laguna!" a Moomba squeaked and waved its paws in the air. "Laguna!"

Seifer wiped a hand down his face. He knew the story about how Laguna once tried to teach Moombas to talk. He just didn't realize it was actually true.

"Welcome," the Shumi named Attendant said. "Elder is resting. He will visit with you in the morning."

"Thank you," Ellone said.

"Follow," Attendant said.

Attendant ushered them into the elevator and Seifer found it odd there was a plush couch inside. 

"Have you ever been here?" Ellone asked as they boarded the elevator.

"No."

"I shouldn't have to say this, but mind your manners," she said. "Mainstream Shumi are used to rudeness, but the ones that live here are not."

"Don't worry your puny little head about it," Seifer said and sat back on the couch as the elevator began its decent. "I know how to behave myself when I need to."

"I have yet to see proof of that," Ellone said. "And my head is not puny."

"It is so," Seifer said. He reached over and wrapped his hand all the way around her scrawny bicep. "Just like the rest of you."

"What are you, five?"

"And a half," he said with a prideful grin. "I've matured."

Ellone's stare was flat.

"Debatable."

The elevator came to a stop and Seifer stood as the doors opened.

A small Shumi and a Moomba waited just outside and Ellone greeted the Shumi as if they'd met before. Seifer couldn't tell if it was the same Shumi that greeted them up above or not. Ellone crouched down and gave the Moomba a scratch on the head.

The Shumi introduced itself as Page and escorted them to the hotel, bid them goodnight, with a promise to retrieve them in the morning so they could speak to Elder.

They settled into the room and readied for bed. As Ellone locked herself in the bathroom, Seifer toyed with the various contraptions in the room and thought about that strange conversation earlier with Ellone.

_I knew you would do extraordinary things._

All Seifer knew was that he had done none of the things he set out to do. He was content with his life now, as it was. Not necessarily happy, but content. He was able to do the things he was good at without repercussions. He had a nice apartment with a view of the Esthar skyline. But the only extraordinary thing he'd ever done was choose the wrong side.

And it _was_ a choice, in the beginning. He could have resisted her if he had the will, but he was angry and stupid and drunk on the idea of power and notoriety. She chose her mark well.

Ellone emerged from the bathroom in cotton shorts and a t-shirt. Seifer watched her turn down the bedspread on the other side of the room.

"I don't want redemption," he said.

"No?" she asked without looking at him. "Then what do you want?"

"Nothing more than I already have."

"I don't think that's true."

"You calling me a liar?"

"No," she said. "I think you want more, you just don't think you deserve it."

On edge, Seifer sat up and glared at her.

"I'm over it," he said. "I got what I deserved."

"No one deserves what happened to you," she said. She turned and looked at him. "But do you know why it happened? Did anyone ever tell you"

Rinoa had told him the reasons. He understood that it was out of everyone's hands, but it didn't change a thing.

"Blah, blah, time loop, bullshit."

"Squall gave Matron the idea," Ellone said as she settled down. "Does that make it his fault?"

"Hell if I know," Seifer said. "All I know is I don't want to talk about this shit anymore."

"Fair enough."

"Good. Shut up and go to sleep."

Ellone switched off the light and said nothing more.

He lay awake, thinking about it. He didn't want to think about any of it.  The past was the past and there was no going back. And even if he could, he might choose to walk the same path.

It was over.  Done.  No point in wallowing in things he couldn't take back.

Instead he focused on Ellone.  He could tell by her breathing, she was not asleep but in someone's memoryscape. Searching for Squall.

At least he knew for certain it wasn't his own memories she was seeing.

* * *

They learned almost nothing from the Shumi about Accountant or where he might be. Seifer found himself annoyed by the Shumi and their slow pace, slow speech, and roundabout way of making a point. He let Ellone do all the talking for a change. She was more knowledgeable about their way of life and they were more receptive to her than they were to Seifer.

"Accountant became greedy," the Shumi Elder said. "He chose to leave us for material things. Very much like NORG. Accountant has evolved beyond our village and will continue to evolve as his gluttony grows."

"Is there any way to locate him?" Ellone asked.

"We do not know," the Elder said. "I am truly sorry."

"It's very important," Ellone said. "I don't think Squall has much time left... If he's still alive."

"This is very sad news," he said. "The Shumi have much respect for Commander Leonhart."

"You know him?" Seifer asked, surprised.

"We have met," Elder said. "He was a very thoughtful man."

Seifer snorted. Thoughtful would not be Seifer's first choice for describing Squall.

"Thank you for your time and hospitality," Ellone said. "If you think of anything else, please let us know. We'll be leaving in the morning."

Seifer followed Ellone from the Elder's house, annoyed that they learned nothing useful. This whole trip had been a waste of time as far as he was concerned. Irritated, he kicked at a rock and sent it flying. A nearby Shumi gathering flowers gasped and stared at him.

"Can you not have a meltdown in public, please?" Ellone hissed. "It's not appropriate here."

"I don't need your lecture," he said.

"Obviously you do," she said. "Instead of being an ass, how about we try and figure out what to do next?"

"I'm getting sick of dead ends."

"So am I," she said. "Nobody wants to get this over more than I do. He's my brother. My family. I'm scared to death that he's actually already dead, and if he isn't, that he will be soon, but you don't see me having a fit every time we hit a dead end."

Seifer pressed his lips together and shoved his hands in his pockets. She had a point, but he didn't like chasing down lead after lead and getting nowhere. Seifer Almasy got results. One way or another, he got things done and he wasn't used to jobs where nothing panned out.

"Let's eat," Ellone said. "Then we'll figure out a plan, okay?"

"What's for dinner?" Seifer said. "Roots and berries?"

"Why do you have to complain about everything?" Ellone asked. "It's one more night. Tomorrow, you can go back to your steady diet of liquor and junk food."

"Hyne, you're salty today."

"Pot. Kettle. Black."

"Yeah, but everybody expects me to be salty," Seifer said. "You, it comes out of nowhere."

"Only around you."

"Really..." Seifer said and raised an eyebrow. "Why's that?"

"Don't start," she said. "I'm too hungry to deal with you right now."

Seifer chuckled and held the door for her as they entered the hotel. There was no dining area but the hotel provided breakfast and dinner in the room. Breakfast had been underwhelming. A bowl of crunchy granola, nuts, and some sort of spicy root, sliced thin.

Their meal was already on the table and Seifer had difficulty identifying what it was. There was a bowl of what looked like pasty oatmeal, a plate of assorted nuts and strange, bumpy purple berries. Next to it was a pitcher of cloudy orange-brown liquid.

He kicked off his boots at the door and sat down at the table. He frowned at the meager fare. How did anybody live on this stuff?

Ellone dug in without complaint, but Seifer picked at his.

As a cadet, he took a lot of pride in being able to and unafraid of eating anything put in front of him. He'd eaten things in survival class and on dares that would turn most people's stomach. Now that he'd grown accustomed to quality food, food not prepared in bulk and served from a steam table, he was less eager to sample the unknowns.

It wasn't terrible, but it wasn't five-star fare, either. The juice, or whatever it was, tasted like carrots and dirt. Seifer spit it out after one sip and drank a glass of water instead.

Ellone, the pig-headed brat she was, looked him square in the eye and swallowed every last drop of hers, wiped her mouth and filled her glass again.

"What next?" Ellone asked. "What do we do now?"

"Hell if I know," Seifer said.

"I was thinking."

Seifer popped a berry in his mouth. It was sour and sweet at the same time and had a strange, meaty texture that he found off-putting.

"What?"

"Thalia was in Balamb," Ellone said. "How did she get there, and how did she leave?"

"Didn't chase her, so I don't know."

"If she took the train, she would have to provide identification," Ellone said. "There would be camera footage from the platform. Right?"

"All that does is prove she was there," Seifer said. "I doubt she used a valid form of ID anyway."

"It could give us an idea of where she was headed," she said. "I can't seem to get into her head, so we need to at least try to question her. I mean, if she works with Accountant, then she might know where we can find him."

Seifer pushed his plate away and sat back to look at her. It wasn't the worst plan, and light years better than anything he'd considered as a next step, but it wasn't helpful either. Weeks had passed since the incident, and Thalia could be anywhere in the world by now. She might even have Squall, or at least know who did. 

"Maybe she didn't leave by train," Ellone continued. "They were headed for the harbor. Maybe they're on a boat."

Now that was something to consider. It was more problematic than the train, but worth a second thought. If the woman and her friend chartered passage, then the crew and any passengers would have encountered them at some point. That made those people potential witnesses. If the Blackhearts had their own means, they would eventually have to stop at port somewhere. The sea provided plenty of food, but it didn't cough up toilet paper or dry goods with any regularity.

Thalia Blackheart was memorable, whether she appeared the way she did in pictures, or the way she'd appeared to Seifer, someone would remember it.

Now that Ellone had brought it up, Seifer was sold on the idea that the reason they couldn't be found was that they ran their operation from a sailing vessel or a small ship. It made sense. Edea and the White SeeDs had evaded detection for years by keeping a low profile. Even now, the White SeeD ship was notoriously difficult to locate.

And these people were looking for Edea.

"We'll start canvassing ports," Seifer said. "Get a photo circulating. See if anyone bites."

"Maybe we should meet up with Edea somewhere," Ellone said. "Turn the tables on them, make the hunter become the prey."

"I'd love to do that," Seifer said. "But it's too big a risk. For both of you."

Ellone frowned.

"You underestimate the White SeeD," Ellone said.

"You underestimate our opponent," he countered. "They associate with people who bomb cities because they feel like it."

"Just a thought," she said. "We don't really have a lot of options, you know."

Ellone excused herself and readied for bed in the bathroom. Seifer heard the shower come on.

Then, he called Laguna.

"Can you get someone to track registration of a small to medium sized shipping or sailing vessel?" Seifer asked.

"Course I can," Laguna said. "What port?"

"Start with Balamb, but all of them," Seifer said. "Have them check for Blackheart or Accountant."

"That's gonna take a while. Couple weeks, maybe longer."

"It's the only lead I've got," Seifer snapped. "I've got nothing else to go on."

"I'll see what we can do," Laguna said. "The Shumi weren't helpful?"

"They were helpful, they just don't know anything."

"I'll let you know what we come up with," Laguna promised.

Seifer hung up and settled down on the bed with his laptop to search news stories for anything that sounded like the work of terrorists or rogue mercenaries. Who knew? Maybe it would lead to something.

From the bathroom came a thud and the sound of things scattering across tile. Ellone didn't cry out or curse. He heard no footsteps or noises that would indicate she was cleaning up a mess. The shower continued to run.

Seifer got up and knocked on the door.

"Elle, you all right?"

No answer.

Worried, he pushed the door open and found Ellone lying face down on the bathroom floor, one cheek pressed to the tile. Her eyes were wide open, but unseeing, and she repeated Squall's name, rank and ID number in a voice that did not belong to her.

Seifer dropped down and shook her shoulder, but her eyes remained fixed on something far away.

"Elle?" he asked. "Can you hear me?"

"This isn't real," she said. "None of it. It's all a fucking lie."

All the hair on Seifer's arms stood up. Ellone never cursed, at least, not to Seifer's recollection, and the voice that came out of her mouth not her own, but Squall's.

"It's not real, not real, not real, it isn't real, it's just a lie, not real, not real," she chanted.

Seifer shook her harder. It didn't rouse her. She continued the chant, the tone plaintive and childlike, like a plea to ward off a nightmare and still more Squall than herself.

"Come on, Elle, snap out of it," he urged. "This better not be a joke, 'cause it ain't funny."

She opened her mouth and a long, thin, masculine wail rose from her throat, and it was full of pain and suffering. Fat tears slid from the corners of her eyes as the sound built into howls of agony.

What the hell was she seeing?

Seifer lifted her up off the floor and into his lap, her bare skin warm and slippery in his grasp. Her eyes fixed on the ceiling and a shudder passed through her small body.

He'd seen her go into her dream trance a dozen and a half times, and not once had she behaved this way.

"Wake up, Elle," Seifer insisted. He slapped lightly at her cheek. "Come on, wake up."

Her head whipped to the side like she'd been struck, and her scream cut short. Blood began to pour from her nose, her lip split open and swelled. Seifer stared at Ellone's flushed cheeks and fresh wounds, bewildered by their spontaneous appearance.

Ellone lifted her hands, wrapped them around Seifer's neck and pressed her thumbs hard into his windpipe. He coughed, inhaled and coughed some more as he broke her grip. Struggling against his restraining hands, Ellone moaned in Squall's voice again.

Her whole body began to shake, her arms and legs thrashed and her head tipped back, chin jerking toward the ceiling, in the grips of a violent seizure.

All Seifer could do was wait it out. He was not a man who feared much, but whatever this was, it _terrified_ him.

Seconds stretched into long, eternal minutes while Ellone jerked and thrashed in his arms. He had a feeling this was not something she normally experienced while in her memoryscapes, and he had no idea how long it might last or how to bring her back.

Slowly, the seizure eased, the tremors in her limbs subsided, and her unseeing eyes focused. When they fixed on Seifer, she burst into tears.

Unsure of what to do, Seifer tightened his grip and held on until her breathing slowed and the crying stopped.

It was then that he remembered she hadn't a stitch on.

He set her against the bathtub and grabbed a pair of towels. He wrapped her up in them, covering her as best as he could. At the sink, he wet a wash cloth and cleaned the blood from her face.

Her lip was split, her nose broken.

"How the fuck...?" he wondered out loud.

Ellone closed her eyes, shivering like she'd caught cold. Seifer moved in closer to look at her nose.

A ridge of bone pressed against the skin and Seifer grimaced on her behalf. It would have to be set before he could heal the wound.

"Elle?"

"Give me a minute," she whispered.

"Any other injuries I need to know about?"

She lifted the edge of the towel to reveal a fresh bruise on her ribs. He hadn't noticed it before, but he was too concerned about what was happening to pay attention else.

The bruise was already purple in the center, dark red on the edges, about the size of a fist. Seifer frowned as he brushed his fingertips over it. It was abraded on one side and pink with swelling.

Ellone swallowed and wiped her eyes, then winced at the pain in her face.

"I need to set that," he said. "Before you make it worse."

She touched the bridge of her nose gingerly, felt the protrusion of bone and resigned herself to Seifer's assistance.

"This is gonna hurt like hell, but I'll make it quick."

She nodded, and Seifer slid forward to take her face in his hands. He laid a thumb on each side of the break and with practiced ease, shifted the bone back into place. There was a second of resistance, a satisfying pop, then her pretty nose was perfectly straight again.

Seifer brushed away her tears, healed the wound with a potion and sat back on his heels to look at her.

"Better?"

"Yes."

"What the hell happened?" Seifer asked.

"I got pulled in," she said. "That's never happened before."

"He pulled you in?"

Ellone nodded. "I think so. He reached out to me. For help. I don't know how."

"You had a seizure, you know that?"

"Squall had a seizure," she corrected. She wiped a hand over her eyes, made a sound like a half sob, sniffled and looked up at Seifer. "He's in bad shape, Seifer. Really bad shape."

"But he's alive?"

"For now." she said. "I don't know how much time he has left. It doesn't feel like a lot."

"Any clues where he is?" Seifer asked.

"Nothing we can use," she said, "but I'm almost positive they're on a ship."

"Can you get dressed by yourself?"

Ellone nodded and Seifer handed her the folded bundle of clothing she'd left on the vanity.

He waited outside the door until it opened and a pale-faced, shell-shocked woman emerged. She looked like someone else. Someone he didn't know.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I need to sit."

Seifer guided her to the bed and piled all the pillows up behind her, draped a blanket over her legs, and settled into the space at the end of the bed.

She relaxed and pressed both hands to her face, breathing deep and slow. Seifer resisted the urge to shake the information out of her.

"I don't know where he is," Ellone said. "But I know who has him."

"Tell me," he said. A hunger swelled in his chest. It was blood lust, and he knew it well. "Tell me everything."

* * *

As Ellone was about to climb out of the shower, she was pulled into someone's memoryscape, an urgent plea for help loud and clear inside her head.

It was different than any connection she'd made before. Anytime she viewed someone's past, it was like watching the scene from the sidelines. When she took others, they saw the world through someone else's eyes, but Ellone always watched froom a distance.

This time, everything happened as if she was Squall. Her vision was limited to what he could see, what he could feel, and right away, she could tell Squall was in poor health, both physically and mentally.

His body was wasted and thin and covered in bruises from violence and malnutrition. His wrists, rubbed raw from cuffs, were chained to the wall in a small dark room. She heard the sound of water and felt the steady rocking of the sea beneath her.

A silent chant moved Squall's lips: _Leonhart, Squall. SeeD Rank A, Balamb Garden Commander. ID 41269. This is not real.  Not real._

Across from him, Zell and Rinoa were locked in a passionate embrace, pieces of clothing scattered around their feet. Horrified, Ellone tried to blink away the vision as Zell pressed Rinoa back against the wall, his lips on her throat and his hands on her hips to peel away her skirt.

Ellone knew for a fact neither could actually be there. Both were in Balamb, and Ellone was sure this never happened, not in the past and not in the present. Maybe sometime well into the future it was possible that their friendship would develop into something more, but right now, it was highly unlikely it had even crossed their minds.

It had to be some hallucination brought on by stress, fear, and hunger, but the illusion was just as devastating as the real thing.

Ellone reached out to Squall to reassure him, to swear that this was not how it was. Squall turned away from the vision to face the wall, covered his head and repeated his chant.

 _Not real, not real, not real_.

"It's real, Squall," a woman said. "Didn't take her long to move on, did it?"

Thalia Blackheart appeared silently and with no warning, and she crouched down beside Squall to stroke his hair and cheeks. Ellone and Squall both cringed at her touch, and Squall covered his face defensively as though anticipating an attack.

_Help me, Sis. Please, help me._

Squall's reward for cowering was a swift kick in the ribs. He curled into a ball, his bruised skin on fire and his breathing shallow and fast. His arms were wrenched away from his face and twisted behind his back, a thumb pressed into a nerve that ripped an involuntary scream from his lips.

_Help me Sis oh god help me I don't want to die here not like this I don't want to die.._

Ellone's strong, tough, brave little brother had been reduced to a terrified, abused child. He begged for salvation, for an end to this horror, and there was nothing Ellone could do to give him that. Maybe, she could take him into memories of better times to help him get through it, but that might only make it worse.

Ellone gave him what she hoped was the mental equivalent of a hug, promised she would do everything in her power to bring him home, but it felt like a lie. She didn't know where he was, how to find him, or how to help. He was dying slowly and painfully and she was sure he wouldn't survive this if she couldn't get him help soon.

Squall was released and rolled onto his back. Thalia crouched over him, her silvery eyes full of mirth as she grasped his face between her hands.

In that moment, Ellone attempted something she'd never done before. She sought a connection with Thalia through Squall. If she could get inside Thalia's head, perhaps she could find out who she was, where they were, and maybe make her stop for long enough for Squall to free himself.

Thalia sat up as Ellone tested her ability to connect. Ellone expected to be forced out, but Thalia just stared down at Squall in curiosity.

"Interesting," Thalia said. "How did you get in?"

As Ellone looked into Thalia's eyes, she realized why she thought she'd known her. Thalia was the presence that had kept her out of Squall's head thus far. Ellone had not recognized her personally, it was the _power_ she recognized.

"Well, since you're here, maybe we should have some fun."

Thalia lifted her foot and kicked Squall square in the face with her steel-toed boot. Ellone was blinded by pain, her vision went white, tinged red on the edges. Bone snapped and agony flared through her face. It brought tears to her eyes and she tasted blood on her lips.

_We'll find you, Squall. I promise you. Just hang on, we'll find you._

Thalia knelt beside him, her smile a horrific facsimile. Her hand touched Squall's forehead, fingertips slid down the side of his face.

Abruptly, Squall sat up and wrapped his hands around her throat and squeezed with all his might. She choked, coughed, clawed at Squall's wrists as he pinned her back against the floor. It took every ounce of strength to hold on. If Ellone could lend him hers, she would.

The face before them shifted, melted, and morphed into Rinoa. Pale hair turned dark, as if drenched in ink.

"Please, Squall, don't," Rinoa hissed. "Please!"

Hands shaking, Squall let go. Rinoa faded back to a laughing Thalia.

"You're half dead and still fighting," Thalia said. "Incredible."

 _I want to die, Elle_.

If Thalia and the abuse hadn't scared her, the hopelessness she felt in Squall did. He wanted to give up. He was weak, sick, tired of suffering.

_You can't quit on us, Squall. Not yet. Please keep fighting. Please._

_I don't know what's real anymore._

_Your family. That's real. You have a wife and daughter that love you. Laguna loves you. I love you. You have to keep fighting, okay? You have to keep fighting, because Rinoa is..._

But Ellone couldn't say it. She couldn't tell Squall that there was a little one on the way, not when he was so broken down and so very close to giving up. It would be cruel to tell him. It would be the last thing he thought of when the end came. How he'd failed his unborn child, just like he'd believed for so long that Laguna failed him.

_I'm tired, Sis. So damn tired. I'm sorry._

Enraged, Ellone pushed at Thalia's mind, seeking a way in, seeking information. That was when the seizure started, Squall's body quaking and thrashing on the floor while Thalia laughed at his misery.

Ellone told Seifer all of this, choosing to keep only the vision of Zell and Rinoa to herself. She blinked back tears as Seifer, at the end of the bed, stared at her. It was hard to read his expression, but his lips were pressed into a thin line and and the set of his shoulders reminded her of a bird of prey about to take flight.

"You're sure Blackheart has him."

"Positive," Ellone said. "And he's going to die of sickness if they don't kill him first."

"Any clue where he might be?"

"No."

"They're looking for Edea."

"Yes."

"You get anything else?" he asked.

"Nothing that would help."

Seifer shifted and leaned back against the foot board.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'll heal" she said.

"I meant the other stuff."

Ellone shook her head and didn't elaborate on how emotionally drained and frightened she was.

"I can't even imagine how he's managed to deal with that every day without going crazy," she said. "What you did to him in D-District is nothing compared to how bad this is. It's unimaginable that someone could be that cruel."

Seifer's jaw twitched at the mention of D-District. There was genuine sorrow in his eyes when he looked away from her.

So, he did regret it after all. He might never own up to it, but he regretted it.

"We should get some sleep," he said. He stood, came to her side and made her sit up. He rearranged the pillows behind her. "Keep your head above your heart or your face is gonna hurt like hell tomorrow."

Ellone nodded, watched him cross the room to his own bed as she settled into the pillows.

"Seifer?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you get anything out of that?" she asked. "What I told you?"

Seifer switched out the light. The rustle of linens and the squeak of mattress springs as he made himself comfortable was his only response.

Ellone thought he'd fallen asleep when he finally did answer her.

"...they're definitely on a ship," he said. "And Leonhart's a goner."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who left kudos so far.


	10. Chapter 10

On average, a man could live without food for up to a month and a half, sometimes longer. Beyond that, it was only a matter of time before it was too late.

Squall was sure it had been longer, but he had no real way to tell. Even with the occasional meals of bread or soup, Squall knew he was in trouble. His hair was falling out and his nails turned brittle. One of his teeth was loose and his gums were swollen, but that might have been from the beatings. Just the act of sitting up made him dizzy and shaky.

It would be smart to keep his muscles as toned as confinement allowed, but he only made an effort after he had a meal in his belly. The rest of the time, he conserved his energy by laying perfectly still, and only moved when he had to.

He slept a lot.

Ellone told him to keep fighting, but he doubted all his reasons for staying alive. He doubted himself, his memories, and it was harder every day to believe anything from his former life had ever really happened.

Sometimes, he doubted he'd ever been anything but Thalia's favorite toy.

He had to believe that the images of Rinoa moving on with her life were false. He had to believe she was waiting for him to come home, that she would welcome him back, that she hadn't found another to fill the empty spot in their bed.

Sis promised it wasn't true...

_...it is unseasonably warm for March, and Squall is boiling in his leather jacket. Rinoa teases him for wearing it to the beach, but old habits are hard to break. Rinoa is dressed appropriately for the weather, in a pale blue sun dress that stops just above her knees._

_Heedless of the still-cold water, she wades in and laughs as the waves surge around her calves. She gathers her skirt in one hand, exposing pale, smooth thighs to the elements. Squall can't take his eyes off her. Love mingles with lust as she turns her smile on him..._

...but Squall wasn't even sure if Ellone had really been there. For a short time, seconds maybe, he was not in this prison, but in a dark so vast, it made time compression look like full daylight.

Maybe he'd imagined her there. Maybe, she hadn't really come when he asked her for help.

Maybe Ellone wasn't even real. How was he to know for sure anymore?

When Thalia brought him a tray overflowing with food one morning, Squall was suspicious. He sat, dizzy, tired, sick, and stared at her offering.

A bowl of hearty fish stew with vegetables, potatoes, and big chunks of meat. A sandwich with cheese. A banana. A bottle of _vitamins_.

It had to be an illusion. Some new way to torment him. He would reach for the spoon and the stew would turn rancid. The sandwich would be a hunk of hard, stale bread, the cheese moldy, the banana rotten.

Or maybe there would be nothing there at all.

It smelled divine. His mouth watered and his stomach tightened in anticipation of nourishment.

With a shaky hand, he picked up the spoon. The food did not turn foul or disappear.

He ate every bite, slowly, to avoid getting sick, and because slow was the only way he could do things now. The effort of lifting the spoon from the bowl to his mouth exhausted him, so he put it down and lifted the bowl to his lips and swallowed every last drop.

As the much needed calories hit his system, he felt instantly better. There might not be another meal after this one, so he savored every bite, ate every last morsel and crumb, licked the bowl, and even considered eating the banana peel in case there were calories to be had there...

_...her skin is kissed with pink from sunlight, not quite a burn but close, and warm to the touch. She smells of fresh air and salt water and the way she smiles at him as she slips out of the sun dress makes his insides tremble. She has given him exclusive rights to touch if he wants to, but he holds back. It isn't the physical desire that scares him. He can deal with that on his own. It's the intensely personal nature of touching and being touched. Allowing himself be vulnerable is so much harder than anything he's ever done..._

...and his limbs shook less as he laid down on the thin blanket, his mind clearer, and he waited for the punishment that always followed Thalia's acts of kindness.

It didn't come.

She sat on the blanket beside him and stroked his head. Her nails scratched lightly against his scalp and neck the way Rinoa used to do to get him to relax.

Hyne, how badly he missed her touch. His throat closed up as he thought of her, heartbroken, alone, lying awake at night because he wasn't there to soothe her back to sleep. Or was she now snuggled into Zell's chest and sound asleep, happy, Squall just a memory that had been replaced by someone who would never hold back his feelings.

Tears welled in his eyes as Thalia guided his head to her lap. Her fingers twined through his thinning, brittle hair. He didn't fight it, didn't resist – he didn't have the strength. He was at her mercy.

Her kindness confused him, but if there was any real kindness in his captor, she would have killed him. A meal and genuine comfort did not make her a friend.

_...violet lace against pale sun-kissed skin, Rinoa smiles at him without fear as she stands in the middle of his dorm room, warm and inviting and he knows if he steps into her arms, there will be no going back. She's so beautiful, his chest hurts, it's hard to breathe, and he watches with his heart in his throat as she sheds the lace undergarments, revealing all of herself to him. She is a lamb that has offered herself up for sacrifice and he trembles as she comes to him, kisses his lips and murmurs words that will prove to be his undoing..._

"Your friend Cid has not been very cooperative," Thalia said. "He's the reason you're here, you know. Had he chosen to make good on his promises, you could have gone home a long time ago."

Squall had nothing to say. He didn't care who was to blame. It was probably a lie anyway.

"I'd planned to kill you and dump your body in the ocean, but I've come to admire you too much," she said. "There's too much fight in you to just dispose of you like trash. But that leaves me with a problem, doesn't it? If I can't bring myself to kill you, and I can't let you go home, what do I do with you?"

"Death match," he murmured. He was only half-joking. "Single combat."

Thalia chuckled and caressed his cheek as though she was his lover. For all he knew, he'd unwittingly become that, but what he remembered of the last - _Hyne how long had it been?_ \- it could have been a lie like all the rest. He couldn't say with any degree of certainty that he hadn't, that they hadn't, but he wasn't truly convinced. His memories were too mixed up now to be certain of anything.

"If you were stronger, I'd consider it," she said. "A fitting death for a warrior in good health, but I've neglected you to the point of no return. You wouldn't even be able to hold your sword aloft."

There was no malice or cruelty in her voice but something closer to regret.

"I'd still die fighting," he said tiredly. "This... Is undignified."

"I'd expect you to want nothing less," she said. Her thumb brushed along the shell of his ear and Squall fought back the shudder of pleasure it elicited from him. "You are a brave man, Squall Leonhart."

"I just want to die or go home," he said. "Pick one. Go with it."

"It isn't that simple anymore. We need you alive until we find Kramer. Anyway, the world believes you're dead," she said. "And I've grown quite fond of you. Perhaps I'll keep you."

Squall began to laugh. It was absurd, it hurt and he knew better than to expend energy he didn't have, but after everything, after all her cruelty, he couldn't help it. His laughter built from hysteria to panic and left him gasping and choking on sobs that he didn't dare let out.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry you got caught in the middle of this," she said. "It wasn't your fight."

_...being with her is incredible and scary and feels good, so good, he forgets to think, but it is over far too soon, his nervousness and inexperience and fear have worked against him and leave him ashamed and inadequate, a failure at the thing men were expected to be good at, the thing he's supposed to want and need second only to food or air. It happened too soon, too fast, he wasn't ready, and he flees to the bathroom to hide his blush and shaking hands and he doesn't want to see the look of disappointment in her eyes..._

Thalia's hand glided over his shoulder, down his arm and back up, over his cheek and hair. Squall closed his eyes and imagined she was Rinoa. Not here, not anywhere near this place, but at home where he could kiss her properly and immerse himself in the scent of her skin. He wanted that so bad, it hurt worse than any pain they'd inflicted so far.

"Your wife is pregnant. Did you know that?" Thalia said. "She's due in May."

Just when he thought maybe she was done being cruel, that she would leave him be. Just when he thought her viciousness couldn't get any worse.

His heart gave a hard and painful squeeze at the thought of Rinoa going through that alone. It was followed by a pang of bitter jealousy at the possibility that maybe, just maybe it wasn't his.

It was insane to believe that Rinoa had been unfaithful, but Thalia planted so many seeds of doubt, had twisted reality so much, Squall could no longer be sure of anything, even his own memories.

_...when she comes to him, there is no reproach, only love and reassurance, a gentle touch and lighthearted teasing when he attempts to say the words back to her and he stumbles, checks himself at the last moment and winds up saying something so stupid that he can never take back. But he loves her, he loves her, he loves her, and there is nothing that will ever change that..._

"Want to make a wager whether it will be a boy or a girl?" Thalia asked. "Or if you're feeling masochistic, if it's even yours?"

"Fuck you," he breathed. "I don't care."

"No?"

_...it is magic, the way life begins. Two cells meet and multiply, two becomes four, four becomes eight, eight becomes sixteen and each individual cell knows where it belongs. Out of nothing, something beautiful is created. It is miraculous the way two separate individuals can come together to make one..._

Ellone had been trying to tell him something.

Why he needed to keep fighting.

He'd been wrong. This was worse than any pain she'd inflicted on him so far, worse than the ache of guilt or longing. If it was true, he was needed at home now more than ever.

"Still want me to kill you, Squall?"

* * *

Going back to work helped Rinoa avoid her grief during the day, but after all was said and done, after Ella was tucked in and Rinoa climbed into her own bed, it would all come crashing down on her. Night after night, she fell asleep with tears in her eyes, trying to conjure the shape of her husband in the bed beside her. She struggled to remember what that felt like.

The scent of his cologne lingered on the unwashed pillowcase far longer than she expected. When it faded to nothing, she spritzed it with the bottle he kept in the master bath, just so she would have an excuse to hang on a little longer.

Sometimes, on the edge of sleep, Rinoa could convince herself Squall wasn't really gone. That he was away on a mission and would be home soon.

Rinoa was sure she should feel his absence in her soul, that there would be an empty spot inside her, that if he was really gone, she would know it. She was sure she would have felt it the second his heart stopped beating, and she hadn't. She hadn't felt him leave this world, or her, and he still took up space in her soul.

That didn't mean he was alive. She had to trust the facts. Squall was gone. He was dead and buried and that was a fact she had to accept.

She threw herself into work and into making sure Ella didn't suffer from lack of attention. Ella still didn't quite understand, and Rinoa found herself having to explain again and again that Squall would not come home. It was as if she needed constant confirmation that it was true, that her father was gone for good, and she needed constant reassurance that Rinoa would not leave her too.

It broke Rinoa's heart every time Ella looked at her with Squall's eyes and asked questions about death.

_Where do they go? Can people come back? Are you going to die too? Why, why, why?_

Always that question:  _why?_

That was a question Rinoa asked herself every single day. It was a question she could not answer.

As Ella's birthday approached, Rinoa enlisted Selphie's help with decorations and planning. Selphie tackled the job with her usual enthusiasm and put together an adorable dinosaur theme with hand-made paper mache raptors and t-rexaurs, banners and palm trees. Rinoa invited Ella's class from school and made little gift bags for each child with party favors and candy.

On the day of the party, Zell took Ella to the park while Selphie and Rinoa decorated. Together, they transformed the family room into a wild jungle with vines made of twisted paper, banners, chain garlands and glittered flowers.

It looked amazing.

"This is so fun!" Selphie said. "I can't wait to have kids so I can do stuff like this all the time."

Rinoa looked at her friend, saw a split second of sorrow before it was replaced by a smile.

"But, I guess I gotta wait until Mr. Right comes along. Wherever he is."

"So I guess things are officially done with Irvine?"

Selphie shrugged.

"Every time he comes back, I get my hopes up that he's ready to settle down but, he's not, so..."

In Rinoa's opinion, Selphie wasn't really ready to settle down either, and she'd never believed the scope of Irvine's wrongdoing was quite as bad as Selphie made it out to be, but that was their business. She just wanted her friends to be happy, whether together or apart.

"I barely got to talk to him last time I saw him," Rinoa said. "I don't even know what he's up to."

"Makes two of us," Selphie said as she brushed glitter from her hands. Rinoa watched it fall into the carpet. "He said he was a gigolo when I asked if he was working. Can you believe that?"

"I'm sure he was joking."

"I'm not," Selphie said. "Anyway, I'm tired of the on-again, off-again, _nobody-knows-where-the-heck-he-is_ thing. I deserve better."

"Well, good for you," Rinoa said. "I wish it had worked out for you two, but I understand."

"Who cares about him anyway?" Selphie said and grinned broadly. "It's time to party!"

Ella was thrilled with the decorations and the house full of kids.  The mood was light, but Rinoa inwardly shrank each time someone offered condolences. She wondered how long it would be before that stopped, before people stopped bringing it up, stopped telling her how sorry they were, or telling her how Squall died too young.

It was hard to find a balance when interacting with people outside her close-knit circle. How to be appropriately sad, but not too sad even though she was still devastated, but also be a good mom and celebrate Ella's sixth birthday with all the fanfare it deserved.

One or two of the other mothers cast her disapproving glances for smiling and laughing, others told her she was too morose for a child's party. Rinoa did her best, but there was no pleasing everyone, and in the end, it was Ella's happiness that was most important.

"All right, bud," Zell said as he dragged a large, shoddily wrapped box with a massive purple bow from the garage. "This is from Uncle Zell."

Ella's eyes went wide at the size of the box and she clapped her hands, giggling.

"Is it a baby t-rexaur?" she asked.

"You'll have to open it up and find out."

Ella tore at the paper as Rinoa stood at Zell's side. Zell crossed his arms over his chest, grinning as bits of paper went flying in all directions.

"That better  _not_  be a baby t-rexaur," Rinoa murmured.

"Damn thing wouldn't stay in the box," Zell said with a straight face. He scratched his chin. "Hard as hell to wrap."

Rinoa cut her eyes at him. Zell held up his hands and flashed a sunny grin.

"Joking! Just joking, Rin. Please don't kill me."

Inside the box was a massive stuffed t-rexaur that was taller than Ella. She shrieked, threw her arms around it and tackled it to the floor, growling and giggling like a little maniac.

"You like it, bud?" Zell asked.

"GRRAWWRRR!"

"I guess that's a yes," he said.

"THANK YOU UNCLE ZELL!" she shouted and jumped up. She threw her arms around his legs. "It's my favorite!"

Zell smiled, clearly pleased with himself and pleased with her reaction to his gift.

"You're my favorite," he said. "Go on. Open your other stuff."

Ella bounded off to the remaining pile of gifts.

Laguna gave Ella a bicycle. It was purple and white, with training wheels and tassels on the handle bars. Rinoa had never learned to ride one, but Zell promised to teach Ella in the afternoons after school. He was still assigned to look after Rinoa, and she suspected he was happy for something to do besides watch Rinoa slowly die of a broken heart.

"We'll have those training wheels off in no time, kiddo," Zell swore.

Quistis showed up late with a bag of age appropriate educational coloring books and apologies about being held up. Things were going on at Garden, things that Rinoa paid no attention to because they didn't involve Squall or finding the people who killed him. Any time she asked, she got a vague answer. They were working on it. No leads. She'd be the first to know.

Selphie gave Ella a big box of craft supplies, full of pipe cleaners and scraps of lace and fabric, glitter, glue, markers and an assortment of other stuff that was sure to wind up all over the house. Rinoa didn't care if it did. She just wanted her daughter to be happy.

Afterward, once all the guests had gone home, Ella sat on the floor with Laguna, chatting about her new stuffed animals and dolls while Rinoa sat on the couch between Selphie and Zell. Zell's arm laid around her shoulders, Selphie's arm was linked through hers, their feet on the coffee table.

"It's such a mess in here," Rinoa said. "I should get up and clean it."

"You should relax and let us handle it," Selphie said. "You just hang out with Ella. Want some tea?"

"I'm okay," she said. "And don't bother with the mess. I just want to sit here with you guys for a while."

Selphie laid her head against Rinoa's arm and gave her a side hug. It was too tight, but welcome.

"I know I haven't said it, but thank you," she said. "For everything."

"That's what friends are for," Selphie said.

Ella crawled into Rinoa's lap and yawned.

"Did you have a good day, sweetie?" Rinoa asked.

"Yep," she said. "I wish daddy was here."

Rinoa swallowed around the lump in her throat and held her daughter tighter.

"Me too, sweetie," she whispered. "Me too."

* * *

The early February morning dawned overcast and cold. Rinoa bundled herself in her warmest sweater wished she could just stay in bed beneath a pile of blankets with a book to sweep her away, into some other place and time. The present time, reality, it moved too fast.

She couldn't believe it was already February, roughly three months before her due date.

Today was her 20-week appointment. Just a check up, and if the baby cooperated, she would find out if it was a boy or girl.

"Man, smells like snow out here," Zell said as he held the car door open for her. "My Ma used to say it always snowed the years big things happened. Must be the baby, huh?"

If the low, dark clouds were any indication, there was a good chance they'd see flurries before the day was over.

Ella would like that. She'd never seen snow.

In the exam room, Zell bounced in his seat and took in all the informational posters on the walls about women's health, pregnancy and ovulation, less scandalized or uncomfortable than Rinoa expected him to be.

Rinoa had asked Selphie to come instead, but Selphie claimed to have a mild phobia about doctor's offices, and said the smell made her sick. Quistis was too busy trying to hold things together at Garden. That left Zell, who was way too excited for his own good.

She appreciated the support and his unquestioning willingness to help her through it, but she was clad in a hospital gown that barely covered the tops of her thighs and it was a little awkward. The last thing she wanted or needed was for Zell to catch a glimpse of anything neither of them wanted him to see.

Not that Zell noticed. He was too busy scoping out the room with its posters and scale models of female reproductive parts.

"Sit still," she told him. "You're making me crazy."

"So how does this work?" he asked. "Like, they do the sonogram or ultrasound or whatever and tell you if it's a boy or a girl?"

"Pretty much," she said. "There is a waiting room, you know."

"I'm cool here," he said. "Figure, it'll be good practice for whenever I have kids."

"You don't even date."

"I do too," he said defensively. "Not lately, but... look, just because I'm going through a dry spell doesn't mean I don't want to settle down eventually."

"Don't let me stop you," Rinoa said.

She was cranky for the sake of being cranky. She hadn't yet come to terms with being a widowed mother with another on the way, and she had yet to feel the same excitement she'd felt when she was pregnant with Ella.

It was unfair to her unborn child, but she resented being pregnant without Squall around to share it with her. It was daunting to think that in a few months, she would have a brand new little one to care for and he wouldn't be there to see her through it.

"It's like you girls have really cool superpowers," Zell said in a awed tone as his eyes fell on a poster depicting fetal development. "Guys can't do anything this awesome."

Rinoa looked at him, unsure if he was joking or not, but he was being perfectly serious. She burst out laughing and patted him on the arm.

"You're too much sometimes," she said.

"Why? Did I say something weird?"

"You just seem really fascinated with all this," she said.

"I think it's neat," he said with a shrug. "Can I ask you something?

"Hmm?"

"What's it like?" he asked. "Being pregnant? Knowing there's a tiny person in there?"

Rinoa ran her hands over her stomach and frowned. It was hard to describe in terms that would make sense to someone who would never be pregnant.

"Weird," she said. "I feel bloated and fat. Kinda gassy."

Zell laughed, leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

"You look great," he said. "You think it's going to be a boy or a girl?"

"I don't know."

"I think it's a boy," Zell said. "You've already got a girl, so odds are, this one is a boy, right?"

"It doesn't really work like that," Rinoa said. "The odds for a boy aren't any higher because I already have a girl."

But Zell was right. It was a boy.

He gave her a high-five when the doctor pointed out what was supposed to be a tiny little penis on the monitor but to Rinoa, resembled a grainy blob that was indistinguishable from the other grainy blobs in the image.

"Little dude's hung like a behemoth," Zell said proudly. "Look at that!"

Rinoa swatted him on the arm, told him to shut up, but the harder she tried not to giggle, the harder it was to hold it back. The perplexed doctor looked on for a second before deciding Rinoa needed a minute to collect herself.

"How dare you say that about my kid!" Rinoa said. She tried and failed to keep a straight face and started to giggle again. "A behemoth?"

"I figured you probably wouldn't appreciate bite bug."

Rinoa dissolved into laughter.

"It's good to hear you laugh, Rin," Zell said. He touched her hand, just for a second. "Like, for real."

Rinoa sobered and leaned back on the exam table and looked at Zell's sunny grin.

"It feels good to laugh," she admitted.

But she felt guilty. For laughing when Squall was not there to laugh with her. Guilty that he wasn't the one sitting next to her grinning like a fool.

"Thanks. For coming with me."

"Hey, no problem," he said. "Happy to do it."

"Really?"

"Really," he said seriously.

* * *

It was snowing when they left the clinic. Zell took Rinoa's hand and guided her to the car, in case it was slippery, but he turned his face up to the clouds and grinned as flakes fell against his cheeks. The forecast had only called for flurries, but maybe they'd get lucky and get enough of a dusting to do something fun with it.

That was a nice thought. Letting go for an afternoon to enjoy some childish fun. Hyne knew, they all needed it.

By the time he pulled the car into the driveway, the snow fell fast and hard and collected against the curb and at the base of the trees on the lawn. He got out and helped Rinoa up the walk as Selphie and Ella bounded from the house.

"It's snowing!" Selphie shouted. "It's a gift from the faeries, Ella!"

Ella looked around, eyes round at the strange white stuff falling from the sky. She held out her hand to catch a flake, and her little mouth opened in surprise as one landed in her palm.

"It's cold," she said.

Zell reached down and picked her up, grinning at the wonder in her face as she gazed up at the sky. Flakes collected in her dark hair and on her eyelashes and she blinked rapidly each time one touched her rosy cheeks.

"What do you say we go inside and get your jacket and mittens?" he asked. "Then we'll come back out and play in it."

"Can we?" Ella asked Rinoa. "Please?"

"Sure," she said.

It took a while to find a warm enough jacket for Ella, and Rinoa had to dig through closets to find something for Selphie. Zell was fine in his hoodie and the waterproof windbreaker he wore when he went running. Selphie wound up in an over-sized cardigan that made her look like a kid playing dress up. She bragged that she didn't need it, being a long-time resident of Trabia, and Zell pretended not to notice how she shivered beneath the fabric.

By the time they made it out to the back lawn, the snow coated the grass and the street, and showed no sign of stopping. Zell showed Ella how to make snowballs and for the next hour, as the flurries turned to real snow, they chased each other around, tossing pathetic handfuls of slush at each other. Ella shrieked with laughter every time she managed to hit him and teased him every time he missed her on purpose.

Selphie joined in, but Zell was her only target. She whipped hard-packed balls of ice at him with no mercy and coaxed Ella into ganging up on him. Rinoa didn't join in, but she watched from the porch steps with a smile, her mittened hands on her stomach. Though she was smiling, her eyes were sad and far away.

Zell wished there was something he could do to make that look go away. Even just for a little while.

"We should make a snow man," Selphie said.

"I don't think there's enough snow for that," Zell said. The snow still fell, but due to the game, they'd either trampled it or used what little there was. "If it keeps going, maybe."

"There is so!" Selphie said. "We haven't even touched the front yard."

"What's a snowman?" Ella asked.

Selphie explained it to her as Zell went to sit beside Rinoa on the steps.

"You good?" he asked.

"...I'm fine."

"You're a bad liar."

She wrapped herself tighter in her coat, seeming to fold in on herself.

"Just wondering when it stops," she said. "Missing him so much it hurts. It doesn't feel like he's gone."

Zell gave her arm a brisk rub, hurting for her. He had never been in love, not like the two of them had been. More like intense infatuation, he supposed. Not one, not even his first, had left him feeling like he would die without her.

He'd been through break-ups with girls he was fond of, and it hurt for months afterward, but it was the rejection that stung, not necessarily his broken heart. He couldn't even imagine how bad it would feel to lose someone he cared for as deeply as Rinoa cared for Squall. As it was, he still grieved the loss of his friend, and figured that maybe, he might always miss him.

"I thought, if something like this happened, I'd feel it because of the bond, you know?" she said. "Like, I would feel it the second his heart stopped, but I didn't. It's like he's still there and I don't know how I'm supposed to move on or make peace with it if it feels like he's still with me."

"You don't think he's still alive, do you?" Zell asked, thinking of what Ellone had said months ago.

He had no intention of bringing that conversation up because it would only give Rinoa false hope, but what she was saying wasn't all that different from what Ellone had described - the sense that maybe he wasn't really gone, even if the evidence said otherwise.

"Sometimes it really feels like he's not gone," she said. "I know that's not healthy, but I can't help but expect him to walk through the door at six like he always did."

"It takes time, Rin," Zell said. "No one expects you to just get over it like it's no biggie."

"I know, I'm just... exhausted," she said. "There are these moments where I forget, you know? Ella will say or do something cute and I think Squall would really get a kick out of it, and then a split second later, I remember I can't tell him about it and it starts to hurt all over again."

There was nothing Zell could say to that, but he empathized. It must have been like breaking a bad habit, but more painful.

"And I'm so angry with him," she said quietly. "I know it's not his fault, but I'm furious with him. He didn't have to go on that mission. He could have sent someone else in his place. He went anyway and now he's just gone."

Out in the yard, Selphie and Ella hunted for sticks and rocks for the foot-tall anemic-looking snowman they'd created together. From where Zell sat, it looked like it was as much dirt as it was snow.

"We should make a T-rexaur next," Ella said to Selphie.

"Ooh," Selphie said. "We could use bits of mulch for teeth!"

"Yeah!"

Rinoa bit her lip, ground her palms against her eyes as though she was crying, but she wasn't.

"It's pathetic that I can't even build a snowman with my own kid," she murmured. "Or take care of the housework or fall asleep at night without going to pieces because I know tomorrow will be exactly the same..."

"There's no expiration date on grief," Zell said. "In the meantime, Sef and I have you covered."

Rinoa sniffled, bowed her head into Zell's shoulder. He slipped both arms around her and hoped it was what she needed.

When she pulled away, her eyes followed Ella and Selphie around the yard and smiled distantly at Selphie's happy chatter over pebbles and bits of twig.

Selphie was the perfect companion for Ella. Zell might be the fun uncle, but Selphie indulged Ella's every whim and was much more of a playmate than a role model. That wasn't a bad thing, most days.

"Hey Zell?" she murmured. "You ever thought about you and Selphie? You know, dating?"

Zell stared at her, incredulous. He burst out laughing and shook his head. As if.

"No way in hell, Rin," Zell swore. "I love her and all, but that might possibly be the worst idea you've ever had."

"Why?" she asked and nudged him lightly with her shoulder. "I think you two would be cute together. You'd make adorable, short little babies."

Zell scowled. She was teasing now, but it was clear she was in favor of the idea, that she meant it.

Selphie was cute and spunky, but she was also a little too manic for Zell's tastes. A guy like him needed a little more stability than Selphie could ever offer him. He already had a hyper streak himself, but he'd calmed considerably over the years. It only manifested these days when he was nervous or excited. Selphie, on the other hand, well, she was on twenty-four-seven and she never stopped.

"Psh, we'd kill each other," he said. "Besides, she's my friend. I don't think of her that way."

"Not even a little?"

"Nope. Not even a little," he said. He patted her knee. "The world is not ready for a Dincht-Tilmitt alliance, Rin. No good could come of it."

"I just want to see you happy," she said.

"I am," he promised and nudged her with his elbow. "Especially now that I'm basically getting paid to hang out with friends all day."

Ella crashed into Zell, smashed a snowball into his hair then ran away laughing. Zell wiped the snow and from his hair and face, stood and grinned down at Rinoa.

"As far as missions go, it doesn't get better than this," he said and held out his hand to her. "Come on. Let's go play. Throw some snowballs. Build a dirt dinosaur. Forget everything that sucks for a few minutes and just cut loose."

Rinoa took his hand and he pulled her to her feet.

"You're allowed to have fun, Rin," he promised. "No one that matters is going to judge you for it."

* * *

It  _was_  fun.

Zell was right. A little activity outdoors in the cold, fresh air, it felt  _good_.

They collaborated on Ella's lumpy snow t-rexaur in the front yard, where the snow was still pristine and blanketed the grass. Half the neighborhood was out doing the same in their own yards. Everywhere, half constructed snow creatures and piles of snowballs littered lawns and sidewalks. A pair of teenagers further down filled buckets to make snow bricks for an igloo. There wasn't enough to pull it off, but Rinoa admired their determination, especially when they produced spray bottles of food coloring mixed with water to add color and help pack and solidify the snow.

It gave her an idea. The only thing better than a snow-dinosaur was one with a splash of color.

"I'll be right back," she said as she turned for the steps.

Zell frowned at her as if he thought she was about to retreat, and she smiled back, a promise to return, and went inside. In the kitchen pantry, she found bottles of red and purple food coloring and a handful of empty spray bottles meant for misting house plants that had never been used.

As she filled the bottles with water, the phone rang.

"Hello, sweetheart," her father greeted.

"Dad? Is everything okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Because you never call me," she said. "Or return my calls unless you want something."

"I'm busy," he said. "You know that."

Irritated, Rinoa added red coloring to one bottle, purple to the other.

"What do you need?"

"I was going to ask you that question," he said. "Imagine my surprise when a subordinate dropped the news on me that you were expecting."

"Oh, shit," she said and pressed a hand to her forehead. "I'm sorry."

"Indeed," he said. "When were you planning to tell me? After the baby was born?"

"I meant to, I swear," she said. "I just... Forgot. I have a lot of things on my plate."

The silence at the other end of the line was drawn out, probably for effect. He liked to use silence as an intimidation tactic, but Rinoa was not one of his minions.

"I'm very sorry to hear it's true."

Offended, hurt, Rinoa asked why.

"That should be obvious, Rinoa," he said. "It is Leonhart's child, right? Not that tattooed man you've been cohabiting with?"

"What?" she cried. "How can you ask me that?"

"Just checking," he said. "Word gets back to me. Sometimes, people assume things."

"Well, first of all, Zell is my friend," she said. "Second, he's a SeeD that's been assigned to look out for me until whatever, or whoever is caught."

"Make sure it stays that way," he said. "I don't intend to let you get your heart broken by another SeeD if I can help it."

"It's not like that," she snapped. "Oh, and it's a boy, if you care. Congratulations, Old Man."

"I'm trying to look out for you, Rinoa. I only want what's best for you."

He wanted what was best? He had a funny way of showing it. Again, she shouldn't have expected any sympathy or support from him, but she wanted it and needed it, but all he had to offer was a cold shoulder and criticism.

"I'm a grown woman," she said. "And I've been making my own decisions since I was fifteen."

"Yes, and look where that got you."

Rinoa bit back every nasty reply that came to mind, took a deep breath and leaned against the counter.

"You're not capable of being sympathetic, are you?" she asked.

"I am sympathetic, Rinoa," he said. "I am truly sorry you've found yourself in this situation. If there's anything I can do - "

"There is," she cut in. "You can visit your granddaughter more often. She lost her father and she's grieving too. Or maybe you can try just being my dad instead of treating me like I'm one of your troops. And, maybe..."

She hadn't wanted to bring it up, but he needed a reminder that he'd been in her shoes.

"Maybe you can try and remember what it was like for you after mom died," she said. "Think about how bad that felt for you and multiply it by ten. And if, after that, you still can't bring yourself to have some sympathy, don't bother calling or, or..."

Rinoa had not wanted to cry, but she couldn't help it. Too many years of being the troublesome, problematic daughter combined with grief and pregnancy hormones forced it from her. She wiped her eyes, sniffled and waited for him to say something.

When he didn't, she pushed away from the counter, put the spray nozzles back on the bottles and rinsed the excess color off in the sink.

"I'm spending quality time with my daughter, so if there's nothing else I'll let you go."

"Rinoa -"

"Yes?"

"I don't want to argue with you," he said. "Please call me when you're more rational and we'll discuss your options."

Rinoa hung up on him. No doubt, he thought everything could be handled through discussion and planning, but that was not what she needed. She didn't need to talk to him about it. She needed a father, not a life coach.

A moment later, she picked up the phone and dialed Laguna.

* * *

Hours later, well after they'd built Ella's red and purple snow T-rexaur, and after the sun had set and the snow continued to fall, all four of them crammed onto the pull out couch mattress in the living room to eat junk food and watch movies. Zell produced his favorite childhood cartoon for Ella to enjoy, an episodic series about a crime-fighting hot dog and his brave companions, Mustard, Relish and Ketchup.

Ella adored it. She and Zell lay on their stomachs, facing the television, Ella rapt and occasionally convulsed by giggles, Zell like a really big preschooler next to her. The sound of their laughter was a comfort to Rinoa. Her friends were a comfort she didn't deserve, but here they were to look after her, and though she was lonely, she wasn't alone.

On screen, _Kung-Fu Hot Dog_  and his friends fought against the tyranny of the evil Pork Chop, Baked Beans, and Potato Salad.

"This show is so dumb," Selphie said. "I love it!"

"I can't believe you've never seen this before, Sef," Zell said. "It's a classic."

"I don't have the attention span for TV," Selphie said.

"Yeah, I guess it would interfere with your busy schedule of mayhem, destruction, and sticking glitter all over everything," he said.

Selphie kicked him in the leg and he grunted, shot her a dirty look, and then settled back down to focus on the TV.

Rinoa tried to keep her attention on the show, but she was too wrapped up in thoughts of all the things she needed to get done in the next few months. She hadn't even started her shopping or preparation for the new baby.

The spare room would need to be cleaned out so she could turn it into a nursery. It was full of boxes and odds and ends that had been sitting there since they moved into the house five years ago. Some of it was sentimental, but a lot of it was just stuff meant for donation or things they rarely used. It would have to be painted and decorated, curtains hung, furniture purchased. She needed baby clothes and bottles and supplies, toys and all the other necessary items needed to care for her son, and there was no more time left to put it off.

And names. She hadn't even thought of names yet.

It was overwhelming, daunting and scary. To be responsible for all of it on her own, it was too much. Squall should have had a say in what they named their son or what color they painted the walls of the nursery. Not that Squall liked to give his opinion on those things, but he would eventually give one after he had time to think about it.

Rinoa was going to have to do all that, and many other things, without him.

Every time she thought she had a handle on the situation, a new worry cropped up and threatened to smother her.

She also hadn't told Ella yet. That was a big one.

As the show ended, Rinoa decided she needed to get that out of the way.

"Hey guys?" she said. "Can I have a minute alone with Ella?"

Zell pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Sure. We'll be in the kitchen. C'mon Sef."

"I heard her," Selphie griped and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. "And you're not the boss of me."

Zell rolled his eyes and pushed Selphie out of the room by her shoulders. He cast a glance back at Rinoa and raised an eyebrow as if to prove his point about their conversation earlier. He and Selphie would be doomed before they even got started.

It was a nice thought. Something to distract her from her depression. If she wasn't happy, someone in this mess deserved to be.

But it was another of her crackpot ideas that would never work. As cute as it might have been to watch them fall for each other, real life was no romantic comedy.

"Come here, Stelly-Belly," Rinoa said and held her arms open for her daughter. "I've got something very important to tell you."

Ella scrambled into her arms, snuggled into her side and for a minute, Rinoa was content just to hold her tight. When she let her go, she took Ella's hand and let it rest on her stomach.

"You're getting fat," Ella said.

"It's not nice to tell people they're fat."

"Sorry," Ella said. "But your belly's kinda big."

Rinoa laughed, drew a hand over Ella's dark hair and looked into her blue eyes that were too much like Squall's to not see him in their depths.

"Well, that's because there's a baby in there," she said. "You're going to be a big sister soon."

Ella blinked at her, uncomprehending, then frowned darkly at the swell beneath her hand. She snatched her palm away and sat back to glare at Rinoa.

There was too much of Squall in that look. In her childish indignation, she had mirrored the look he got when he decided to dig in his heels and stand firm, be it a fight he had little chance of winning or any time Rinoa tried to add new colors to his wardrobe without his permission.

"I don't  _want_  to be a big sister," she said.

"That's too bad, because I was hoping you'd help me pick a name for your new little brother before he comes," she said.

Ella's bottom lip jutted out and started to tremble.

"I don't want a brother."

Rinoa hadn't counted on Ella being upset. She expected a lot of questions and a few worries, but not the deep resentment she saw in Ella's eyes now.

Of course she would want to be the only child, especially with Rinoa's attention divided and without Squall there to make up for it. She felt his absence in ways that had not even occurred to Rinoa.

_I'm not being a very good mother..._

From now on, Ella had to come first. Rinoa could not afford to stare at the walls, wishing for a miracle that would never happen. She could not walk around in a daze anymore, lost in her own pain when her child needed her. Selphie and Zell being there had made it easy to forget how much Ella needed her.

"Are you afraid I won't love you as much?" Rinoa asked.

Ella nodded. Tears welled in her big blue eyes.

"I promise that won't happen," she said. "Not ever."

"But it did," Ella said. "When Daddy died."

That hurt. It hurt a lot.

"You mean... You feel like I stopped loving you when Daddy died?" Rinoa asked gently. "Or like I don't love you the same?"

Ella nodded, sniffled, and broke Rinoa's heart to pieces.

Rinoa eyes welled with tears as she realized what allowing herself to descend into bottomless despair had cost her daughter.

She was going to have to let Squall go.

Even if the very idea of that ripped her broken heart into a dozen pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you to those who took a second to leave kudos so far! Also, thank you to the subscribers and to anyone who bookmarked. I appreciate you!!!


	11. Chapter 11

Rinoa and Selphie spent a weekend packing up the spare room, a project Rinoa had put off until it was almost too late. The majority of the stored items went in the trash or to the local donation center. The rest, the things that meant something, Rinoa packed in smaller boxes and stored them in the closet until she could get Zell to carry them up to the attic.

She stood in the nearly empty room, her arm linked through Selphie's and looked around. It was bigger than she remembered. Windows on the north and east walls filled the room with soft, warm light.

Selphie slid a hand over Rinoa's stomach and grinned at her belly.

"Selphie, please stop touching my stomach."

"But you're so cute!" Selphie said and continued to fondle. "You look like you swallowed a chocobo egg."

"Thanks," Rinoa said flatly. "That makes me feel super pretty."

"I just said you looked cute," Selphie said. "Don't be all cranky."

"Can't help it. I'm bloated, uncomfortable, my feet hurt, and I have to pee every five minutes."

Selphie ignored her complaints and bounced away to spin around in circles in the middle of the room with her arms flung out wide.

"You should paint it yellow," Selphie said. "With little chicobo accents. I saw this cute fabric at the craft store that would make great curtains. And you could get that chocobo lamp I showed you in that catalog and I'll make a mobile -"

"Ella and I decided on turtles," Rinoa said gently. "Remember?"

It had taken Ella weeks to stop pouting. She'd given Rinoa the silent treatment for days until Rinoa had suggested dinosaurs as a decorating scheme.

"Dinosaurs are mine," Ella said. "He can't have them."

"Well, what do you think we should do?" Rinoa asked. "Frogs, maybe?"

Ella looked at Rinoa in an almost shrewd way and cocked her head to the side.

"Turtles," she said. "I think we should do turtles."

So turtles it was. It didn't matter to Rinoa much what the theme was. It wasn't as if the baby would know or care or even be put off that his room was decorated with turtles instead of frogs. No more than Ella had cared her room was decorated with butterflies instead of a princess theme.

Selphie was disappointed, but broke into a smile a split second later.

"I can work with that," Selphie said. "Paint the walls light green, find some cute turtle fabric for curtains. I bet that place with the chocobo lamp has turtles too! And I can definitely pull off a mobile for the crib, no problem."

Rinoa slid her arms around Selphie and hugged her tight. She usually let Selphie initiate the hugging, but Rinoa was so grateful and she'd run out of ways to say thank you without sounding like a broken record.

"I'd squeeze the crap out of you," Selphie said. "But I don't want the baby to pop out on accident."

Rinoa laughed into Selphie's hair. Gave her one last squeeze and then let her go.

Selphie's hands slid over Rinoa's stomach and she leaned down, whispered something that Rinoa didn't hear, and popped back up, smiling.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing," she sing-songed. "Just a little Auntie Selphie – baby boy bonding. I want him to know my voice."

A stab of sorrow cut through Rinoa and her eyes got misty. Squall liked to talk to Ella before she was born, convinced that she could hear him because of something he'd read in a book.

"Have you picked a name yet?" Selphie asked.

"No," Rinoa admitted. "I thought about naming him after Squall, but he would hate that. And... It would hurt too much."

Selphie patted her arm sympathetically.

"You're in luck because I have tons of ideas," Selphie said. "How about Dylan or maybe Tyler? Niall, or maybe Zane? Or how about Steve? Everybody likes a Steve, don't they?"

Rinoa frowned at Selphie's choices. They were all names of guys in the boy-bands Selphie was so fond of. Rinoa was not going to name her son after a pop star, no matter how pure Selphie's intentions.

"I was thinking more along the lines of relating it back to Squall somehow," Rinoa said. "Something to do with the weather or water or stars. Maybe... lions? I don't know. Nothing sounds right."

She'd spent hours pouring over one of the name books at the store. It was so worn from thumbing through it, she wouldn't be able to put it back on the shelf when she was done.

Stella Raine had been Squall's idea. It had fit so perfectly, given the significance of the stars to both of them, but also payed homage to Ellone in Ella's nickname, and to Squall's mother.

It had been much easier to choose a name for a girl. There were tons of pretty names, but this time around, Rinoa's options all seemed so underwhelming.

"How about Sky?" Selphie said. "Or Rain. You could spell it with a Y!"

"Raine is Ella's middle name," Rinoa said. "Remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Selphie said. "What about... River or maybe Ocean?"

Rinoa gritted her teeth and sighed. Until she picked a name, Selphie was going to pepper her with suggestions. Not that it wasn't helpful, but Selphie never knew when to stop.

"Then there's Orion or Astor, or maybe Tempest or Sirius if you wanna go with the weather," Selphie said. "I don't know about lion names, though. You can't name him Leo or Leon or something because that's redundant. Leon Leonhart. It just sounds weird. Oooh, what about Leander? That means lion in old Estharian. Oh, but that sounds weird too. Um, what about..."

Rinoa tuned her out and walked the perimeter of the room as she imagined what it would look like when it was finished. As she paced, she wondered who her son would look like. Would he have Squall's eyes, like Ella? Or would his be brown like hers? Would his face have her features or Squall's? The slight wave in Caraway's hair or Laguna's narrow face?

Would he be fiercely independent or a mama's boy? Shy or outgoing? Who was this little person?

Only time would tell, she supposed.

And that time was coming soon.

* * *

Days later, she decided it was time to pack Squall's things, too. It was a hard decision to make, but it was even harder to go into the closet and see all his things. His uniform still hung on the back of the closet door, and all the t-shirts he insisted on folding into perfect squares were still stacked neatly on the shelves. His boots and shoes were lined up neatly along the wall, just below the casual clothes and the suits he hated wearing.

It was painful to decide what to keep and what to donate or throw away. It didn't make sense to hang on to the stack of plain, white v-neck shirts or the neatly bundled socks in the drawer, but she wanted to. She wanted to keep everything, every last thing because it was all she had left.

Item by item, she sorted through his things and it felt like such a betrayal, like she was throwing away pieces of their life together.

Maybe she would feel better once they were gone, maybe she wouldn't, but this was something she had to do, and the sooner she got it out of the way, the sooner she might be able to move on.

But, it hurt to part with items that had seemed so mundane and everyday. It hurt to let go.

There was one item she didn't dare touch or even look at. She left it where it was, on its hanger in the back of the closet, unable to part with the one thing that was most sentimental to her. It would stay where it was until she could bring herself to pack it up and put it away. Today was not that day.

"What are you doing?" Zell asked from the doorway.

Unable to articulate around the lump in her throat, Rinoa gestured at the piles.

"Oh, man," he murmured. "You sure you're ready for this?"

Rinoa nodded and tossed another t-shirt on the donation pile.

"Maybe this is a bad time, but I uh, I need to talk to you," he said. "It's important."

"What's up?"

"Garden's pulling me off duty," he said. "For good."

"What?" she asked, surprised. "What happened?"

"They're um, retiring me," he said. He dug the toe of his shoe into the carpet "And a whole bunch of others. Budget problems, stuff going on. Basically, me and Selphie and the other higher ranked people are too expensive to keep, so as of next week, I'm a civilian, and they're gonna assign some newly minted kid to look after you."

This was unexpected. Rinoa knew things at Garden were not what they were before Squall died, but she hadn't known it was that bad.

"That's a huge mistake," Rinoa said. "What is Cid thinking?"

"He's gone. Been gone. Thought you knew that," Zell said. "Took off right after the funeral. No one's seen or heard from him, and these debt collector guys are causing trouble for Xu and Quistis, and I don't know what's going on for real, but they didn't really have a choice."

That was news to Rinoa. Either no one had mentioned Cid's disappearance, or she'd been so out of touch with what was going on around her, she'd missed it.

"Is he missing or did he bail?"

"Bailed," Zell said and cracked his knuckles. "Freakin' coward. Apparently, he's way in debt, and instead of dealing with it, he left a note and split."

"That's sounds like something he'd do," Rinoa said.

"Sucks."

"I'm so sorry, Zell," Rinoa said. "What are you going to do?"

"I dunno," he said. "Haven't really thought that far ahead. I've got quite a bit of savings, though. I can survive on that until I figure something out."

"Well, you're welcome to stay, mission or no mission," she said. "I like having you here."

"You sure?" he asked. "I don't want to be a pain in the ass or anything. I'm sure my Ma wouldn't mind if I moved back in."

"You aren't," she said. "If not for you..."

Rinoa looked down at the piles of shirts and jeans and blinked back her tears.

"...let's just say I'd be a lot worse off than I am now," she said. "And you're a better cook than I am."

Zell laughed and plopped down on the floor next to her.

"You need any help?"

"I've got this," she said. "It's not easy, but I've got it."

* * *

Seifer had been to Odine's lab dozens of times for various reasons over the years, and he'd never quite understood what went on inside its walls. Up until now, he didn't have a reason to know or care, but if anyone could answer questions about Thalia's abilities, it was Odine.

Kiros assured him that any and all subjects in Odine's custody were there of their own free will, but it hadn't always been so. Before Adel had been sealed and for a number of years after, the man had free reign to do as he pleased. That included doing experiments on people who had not given consent to be studied, the majority of them women and children.

At his side, Ellone clutched her wrap tighter around her shoulders to hide a shiver. Her eyes stayed fixed on the wall across from her and she hadn't said a single word since they pulled into the parking lot.

It must have been like revisiting the scene of a crime for her, the time spent there a dark place she didn't want to return to.

Seifer didn't know much about Ellone's past, and most of what he did know he heard from Kiros, who wasn't exactly forthcoming about details. Ellone never talked about it. Never once mentioned what kind of things had been done to her here, and that said a lot, since she had opinions about literally everything else.

A sharp scream cut through the lobby and Ellone visibly jumped at the sound. Seifer wasn't sure how to reassure her, but he wanted to.

"What the hell goes on in this place?" he asked.

Ellone folded her hands in her lap and stared at the wall.

"You know how there are questions you won't answer?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, there are some questions I won't answer."

"Elle-"

" _No_."

Seifer didn't like it, but he accepted it. He, too, preferred to leave the nastier bits of his history in the past where they belonged.

Dr. Odine was a little too pleased to see Ellone when he finally graced them with his presence. He ignored Seifer and fawned all over her. Odine paid no attention to the shell-shocked look on her face and Seifer was forced to intervene.

"Keep your hands to yourself," Seifer warned. He cracked his knuckles and towered over the man. "I"m sure if she wants you to touch her, she'll invite you."

"You vill not police me in my own lab," the man barked. "Do you vish to fisticuffs?"

Seifer snickered. "Oh, I'd love to see you try."

"Seifer, stop," Ellone said. She laid a hand against his arm. It seemed innocent, but it felt like a warning. "It's fine. Why don't you hang back and let me ask the questions?"

"Fine, but just so you know, I'll break your goddamned neck if you touch her again without her permission," Seifer said without taking his eyes off the doctor.

"Seifer," Ellone said through gritted teeth. "You're not helping."

They were ushered into a lab, where Seifer could not identify a single piece of the equipment except for the exam table. It gave him the creeps.

He perched on the edge of a nearby desk as Ellone explained what little they knew of Thalia Blackheart and her abilities. Odine grew steadily more excited the more he heard, and Seifer could almost smell ozone and sulfur and burning plastic as the wheels in the little man's head began to turn.

"I am familiar vis her, yes," Odine said. "She vas in my custody some years after you. Her abilities vere astounding!"

"You tested her?" Ellone asked. "She was here?"

"For a time. She vas a difficult subject," Odine said. "Half mad by ze time she came to me."

"How old was she?"

"Nine years old, I believe," Odine said. "She did not know how to control ze power. It vas terrifying and very exciting! She vas not somesing I encountered before."

Seifer exchanged a glance with a grim faced Ellone and inclined his head slightly.

"She bends reality," Ellone said. "Is that correct?"

"She can make a person see anysing she vants zem to see," Odine said. "It iz a spectacular gift vis many military applications, however, Loire did not vant me to further my research in zis area."

"Anything?"

"Anysing!"

That explained the visions Ellone described. Of the things she occasionally saw in Squall's head when she was able to break through – spiders, fire, blood, the blue water of Balamb, even demons.

Someone who could bend reality and abused it could do anything they wanted. Anything at all.

Uneasy, Seifer edged off the desk and thought of Ultimecia and all the promises she made. All the illusions and lies. She held him captive with trickery, with buried desires plucked straight out of his head and held out before him to take. Every last one nothing more than bullshit _lies_.

"How did she end up here?" Seifer asked. "How did you get your grubby hands on her?"

"Seifer," Ellone cut in. She placed herself between the two. "It's a good question, Dr. Odine. I'd be interested in her history."

"I do not know much," Dr. Odine said. "She came to me from an orphanage from ze north. Zey could not keep her because of ze nightmares."

"Nightmares?" Ellone asked.

"Zey said she gave ze ozer children nightmares," Odine said. "As well as ze staff. She could not be controlled, vas violent, did not respond favorably to kindness or attention. Before zat, I believe she had a family but her father iz dead and the mozer iz in prison."

"For what?" Seifer asked.

"Murder," Odine said. "I do not know ze full story. Perhaps zere iz somesing about it in ze news archives."

Seifer made a mental note to look into it. He had access to 50 years worth of news articles and police reports. If there was something relevant to find, he would find it.

"How old was she when she left?" Ellone asked.

"She did not leave, she escaped," Odine said. "Perhaps 10 years ago now. An orderly failed to zecure her and she made my staff believe ze building vas on fire. She escaped during ze evacuation. I have not seen or heard from her since."

"Do you think she's capable of killing people?" Ellone asked.

"She killed many people before she came into my custody," Odine said with a shrug. "Or gave zem cause to harm themselves or ozers. She seemed to enjoy causing pain."

"At age nine?" Seifer asked, skeptical. "You make her sound like a serial killer."

"Yez, perhaps," Odine said. "But zat girl knew greater cruelties zan anysing I could have done in my experiments. I vould not blame her if she wanted to destroy everysing and everybody."

Ellone blinked at him, turned her face to the floor and took a deep breath. Her reaction plus Odine's casual way of speaking about subjecting a child to experimentation set off an alarm bell inside Seifer's head. He suspected what the man did here was bad, but it was quite possibly worse than anything he could imagine.

"What kind of experiments are you talking about?" Seifer asked.

Ellone shot glare his way, but Seifer pretended not to see it. There was a reason the question pissed her off. Likely because the answers would also apply to her.

"Everysing from testing ze blood for genetic markers to pain threshold experiments," Odine said. "Ve vanted to see if her ability to project vivid images intensivied ven stressed."

"So you hurt a kid to see how real she could make an illusion when she was in pain?" Seifer demanded.

"It vas necessary to find ze limits of her power."

So matter of fact. So devoid of compassion. It pissed him off.

"Did you?" he asked flatly. "Find the limits?"

The doctor did not pick up in Seifer's tone.  Or ignored it.

"It took a great deal of testing, but yez," Odine said. "Ze greater ze pain, ze greater her ability to assert her control to make ze pain stop."

"Fucking bastard," Seifer growled. "She was a _kid_."

"A kid who vould murder me and evervone elze if she had ze chance," Odine said.

"You think maybe it's because you performed pain experiments on her?" Seifer spat.

"She vanted to kill me from ze start," Odine said. "Zat child vas little more zan an animal when she came to me."

"So I guess that meant it was okay to treat her like one?" Seifer said.

Fuck this guy. Seifer wanted to tear him apart, slowly, and watch him suffer. If he found out Odine had done anything even remotely like it to Ellone, the good doctor's days were numbered.

Seifer wasn't easily given to sympathy, but he had a soft spot for kids, even if he didn't necessarily like being around them. Maybe it was his own fucked up childhood that did it, but the thought of this monster putting a kid, any kid, through that kind of torture set his insides on fire.

He glanced at Ellone, at her unusually pale skin and rigid posture, and something fiercely protective rose up within him. She was standing in the presence of a man who to some degree had abused her as a child, a man who had kept her as a lab rat. Most people would run away or cower. Some might return the favor.

Ellone did neither. She wasn't her usual self, but if she was afraid, it only showed in the set of her shoulders and the stillness of her body. Others might see this as a sign of respect for Odine's position. Seifer saw something else.

_You've hidden it your whole life, haven't you Elle?_

_You're good, but I see it. I see you._

She glanced over her shoulder, and for a second he thought she'd heard him, but the look she gave him was hard, her eyes chips of flint.

"We're off track," she said. Seifer opened his mouth to snap back but Ellone cut him off. "Enough, Seifer."

She spoke softly, but it was, without a doubt, an order and one he'd best heed. He'd ventured into sensitive territory, into places she didn't want to revisit. He wasn't sure how he knew that, but it was clear he was about to cross some invisible line, and if he did so, he wouldn't be able to undo the damage.

Seifer got it. He felt the same way about Ultimecia, but to hell with Odine's reasons. To hell with scientific progress or research or whatever bullshit excuse he gave for running a government sanctioned torture chamber. None of it was okay, and Seifer intended to give Laguna an earful about it when he got the chance. If he was still letting Odine conduct experiments on children, he would regret it.

"You said she was half mad when she came to you," Ellone said. "Was it her gift or her circumstances from before?"

"Perhaps it vas ze power, perhaps a difficult childhood. Who knows?" Odine mused. "Ze visions and false realities turned her feral and wild, one way or ze ozer and she did not know vich sings vere real and vich vere not. Even after I taught her control, her reality vas never entirely real."

That explained a lot. Not everything, but some of it. The woman may have been fighting an imaginary war of her own creation. Or, maybe she was just completely and totally broken and her actions were part of a wild delusion she could not entirely manage.

"I want the files," Seifer said.

"I can not give you ze files," Odine said, his beady little eyes narrowing as he peered up at Seifer. "Zoze are confidential."

"President Loire gave me permission to access any information I want," Seifer said. "I want those files and you're gonna give them to me."

"I know who you are," Odine said. "You are ze Knight."

"Not anymore," Seifer said. "And you can give me those files of your own free will, or I'll break every fucking finger on both of your hands, plus your thumbs, and then I'll take the files anyway."

He expected Ellone to tell him to shut up, but her expression remained closed off and emotionless. Her eyes never left Odine.

"It's your choice," Ellone said pleasantly, as if she offered him a choice between cookies and cake. "I'd hate to see you suffer, Doctor."

Seifer struggled to hide a grin. Hyne love her, she was way better at this shit than he ever imagined she would be.

Odine sputtered, huffed and spun away from them, but he returned with a box filled with file folders. He hurled them onto the floor at Seifer's feet, spitting nonsense words that sounded like curses.

Seifer thumbed through the folders to ensure Odine hadn't stuffed a bunch of crap inside. He sampled pages from random files and found blood work, EEG, and x-rays.

Ellone bid a Odine hasty goodbye as Seifer ushered her from the room, the box on his hip and a palm against her lower back to guide her down the hall. She seemed too distracted to make him remove it. Or maybe she just didn't mind. Maybe she found it comforting. Seifer hoped so.

Outside, he put the files in the back seat of the car, and opened the passenger door for Ellone, but he stopped her before she climbed inside.

"Elle?"

"I'm fine."

She didn't look fine. Her eyes were far away, her face ashen.

On impulse, Seifer pulled her close because he couldn't stand that look in her eyes. He hooked an arm around her waist and cradled her head against his chest, felt her tremble and squeezed tighter.

It was a brief embrace, just a few seconds, and as Seifer pulled away, Ellone's eyes were on him, ever the enigma.

"What was that for?" she asked.

"Looked like you needed it," he said. He held the door open. "Get your ass in the car."

* * *

Back at Seifer's apartment, where they were staying for a few days since Laguna was at a political summit in Deling City, he laid the files out on the table and separated them by medical, experimental and psychological profiles.

The woman's medical history was not important. There was nothing of value to be learned from x-rays and health assays as far as Seifer was concerned.

"What are we looking for?" Ellone asked as she opened a file containing dental records and set it aside.

"I want to put together a profile. Know your enemy and all that."

"You think it will help?"

"If it comes to a fight, yeah," he said. "But it might also help us figure out where the hell she is. I need to know exactly what we're dealing with. Then we can figure out how to fight it."

"Okay," Ellone said. "Where do you want me to start?"

"Pick a file. Start reading," he said.

For the next few hours, they poured over the files in silence. Seifer ordered pizza but it grew cold on the counter as they both immersed themselves in Thalia Blackheart's history.

As Seifer read through the experimentation documents, he became increasingly angry. Angry because all of these things had been done to a kid. A kid who had been very clearly in poor mental health and badly in need of help. The more he learned, the more certain he was that Odine was at least partially responsible for making Thalia Blackheart the monster she became. Odine had taught her to control her ability, but he'd also been exceptionally inhumane in his testing.

Seifer actually felt a little sorry for her, but even more sorry for Ellone.

"Why the hell did Laguna let this happen on his watch?" Seifer demanded.

"I doubt he knew," Ellone said mildly as she flipped through the contents of Thalia's psychological profile. "Odine's para-magic research is invaluable, and sadly necessary."

"Putting an unarmed kid in a room with a behemoth isn't necessary," Seifer said as he flung a document across the table at her. "No matter what kind of mind-bending shit she can do."

"I'm not defending him," Ellone said. "I can tell you from experience, he's cruel and unethical, but what we know about sorcery, GF's and magic are the result of his projects. He's the reason we have a sealing chamber and the reason we were able to stop Adel, fight Ultimecia on her own turf, and why Rinoa can live a mostly normal life."

"He's the reason that Witch was even able to come back," Seifer said. "If he hadn't built that fucking machine, none of that would have happened."

"I don't disagree," she said. "But everything we know about the world came at the expense of something else, be it in the name of science or democracy."

Seifer frowned at her. He saw her point, but he wasn't about to concede it.

"Doesn't make it right," Seifer said. He dropped the experiment files in front of Ellone. "I'm done with those and I need a drink."

In the kitchen Seifer poured himself a glass of whiskey, then one for Ellone. He didn't care if she wasn't much of a drinker. It would take the edge off, and she could drink it or not drink it.

"So, have you learned anything yet?" she asked without lifting her eyes from the pages.

Seifer sat back and sipped his drink. He hadn't learned anything of significance about Thalia Blackheart, but he'd learned something about Ellone.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "A few things."

"Such as?"

"You're really fuckin' good liar."

Ellone's eyebrow shot up and her head lifted to meet his gaze.

"I haven't lied to you about anything."

"Not directly."

"We're not here to discuss me," she said. "So if you don't have anything that's going to help Squall, I don't want to hear it."

"I just have one question and then I'll leave it alone," Seifer said.

"What?"

"Did Odine do this shit to you?"

"Yes."

"Yes," Seifer said slowly. "Hyne almighty, Elle."

It was one thing to suspect. Another to know the truth.

"Does Laguna know?"

"No," she said firmly. "And it's going to stay that way. Do you understand me?"

"How could you keep that quiet?"

"I don't want to make it worse for him," Ellone said. "He already feels guilty enough. And none of this is why we're here, so I'm going to ask you nicely to let it go."

She swallowed down the whiskey and went to the window to stare out at the fading daylight. Seifer had put her on defense, and it showed. She was silent for a long time, and so still he was sure she'd slipped away from him to connect with someone, somewhere, away from his questions and his temper. But her eyes were open and fixed on the horizon.

Seifer poured her another drink and joined her at the window. To the west, the sky burned bright orange, hot pink, and fire red, like the world had been set ablaze. He sat on the narrow sill, his back to the glass and wiped a hand over his face.

"What Thalia does, it isn't that different from what Ultimecia did to me."

Ellone lifted the glass to her lips and took a slow sip. When she lowered it, she turned to look him square in the eye.

It occurred to him how few people had the nerve to do that. Most treated him like a wild dog – don't look it in the eye, don't make any sudden moves.

"How so?" she asked.

"She used everything I wanted against me," Seifer said. "To control me and keep me in line. I really thought we were fighting on the right side, that what we were doing was what the world needed and that I was the hero."

"And in reality, you weren't," Ellone said.

"Every last bit was a lie," Seifer said bitterly. "But it was real easy for her to convince me otherwise."

Ellone took another swallow of her drink and returned her gaze to the setting sun.

"It took a long time to sort out what really happened," he said, unsure of why he was still talking. "Sometimes, I'm still not sure."

"If you're asking me to take you back so you can find out the truth, it doesn't work like that," Ellone said. "All you'll see is what you thought was there."

"I don't want to know," he said.

"Neither do I," Ellone said. Her posture straightened, then relaxed. "I want to talk to her mother, if she's still alive."

"Need to find out who she is first."

"Well hop to it, Almasy," Ellone said in a weak attempt to lighten the mood. "Time's wasting."

There was a part of him that wanted to reach out to her. That part was silenced by the part that still cowered in fear of her gift. He couldn't afford to let her see all the way through him.

He pushed away from the window and returned to the table. He opened up his laptop and called up the police report archive.

"Are we chasing a ghost, Elle?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Maybe," she said. She sounded defeated. "Are you thinking of giving up?"

"Not while you say he's still alive."

The screen came up and Seifer typed in a handful of keywords and an approximate time frame to search.

"I had an idea," she said and slipped into her chair. "Why don't we get Laguna to set up a meeting, to see if we can't get them to come to us."

Seifer scoffed.

"How do you plan to do that?"

"Maybe... he has some gambling debts he needs to pay off," Ellone said. "Discreetly. Put the word out that he's looking for a lender. See what pops up."

That wasn't a terrible idea.

"I'd rather deal with it directly," he said. "I don't want to risk them getting their hands on Laguna, either. We'll just say it's me."

More than 300 articles popped up on Seifer's screen. He bit back a curse and ruled out the first three based on synopsis alone.

"I'll take care of that," he said as he started to scroll through the list. "I want you to find out where Cid is."

"Why?" she asked. "I thought you said he wasn't important."

"If we find him, we'll have something they want, won't we?"

* * *

"I think I found her," Seifer said. "Blackheart's mother."

Ellone looked up from the file in her hand and set it aside. Seifer pushed the laptop in front of her and moved around to her side of the table to crouch next to her. On the screen was an old police file with attachments at the bottom.

"Read it, tell me what you think."

Ellone skimmed through paragraphs of dry language documenting the scene while Seifer waited, not so patiently for her input.

_Suspect stabbed husband 16 times in the chest and throat. Claims she was trying to kill an unusually large spider. When further questioned, she blamed demons._

_Both victim and suspect are members of an ultra-conservative religious sect. Home has no electricity or modern conveniences._

_Child discovered chained to a wall in a shed on the property. Approximately 7 years old, female, severely malnourished. Evidence of extreme physical abuse and neglect_.

Ellone scarcely noticed Seifer's hand on her knee as she clicked on the attached crime scene photos. She didn't look at the pictures of the victim for more than a second, but the photos of the girl and the shed she had been locked in captivated her attention for far too long.

It was filthy, with a single dirty window. The floor was covered in soiled hay. On the walls someone had scrawled the words  _I'M SORRY_  over and over again in paint that looked like dried blood. The girl was a fragile bird of a thing, pale haired, pale eyed, and dangerously thin, but there was no question who she was.

Ellone couldn't bring herself to click on the related news articles. Later, maybe, after she had time to process this, when they were en route to somewhere else and there was nothing to do. Right now, it was too much on top of the trip down memory lane.

She preferred to keep those parts of her past locked away. Living in fear, years spent in hiding, on the run, moving from place to place, and never knowing if the next bend in the road would bring pain or terror, that was all behind her. She was not prey anymore. She was not a victim.

And still, she drifted back to the labs, to the bullet riddled walls of her mother's house, and knew that on the inside, some small piece of her would always be a terrified child hiding herself in some crawl-space while the people she loved fought battles and died on her behalf. There would always be a part of her that preferred to stay away from forming too close a bond with others, lest they too be gunned down for the curse she'd been born with.

Seifer's hand tightened on her knee and Ellone snapped back into the present. She brushed him off and stood up, unwilling to accept the comfort his touch offered.

"I should try to connect with Cid," she said. "The sooner we find him, the better, right?"

"Elle."

It was the tone of his voice that forced her to look at him. Just a shade above a whisper, and far too empathetic for a man like Seifer.

Hyne, she was tired, but she turned to face him dead on. If it was pity he was feeling for her, she didn't want it. She didn't need pity. She needed this to end.

"Tomorrow," he said. "Tonight, you sleep."

"I won't anyway, so I might as well do something useful."

"You're not gonna be any use to me if you don't take care of yourself," Seifer said.

It sounded strange coming from him. Then again, he'd been strange since they left O-Lab.

He stood slowly and switched the laptop off, gathered the files and returned them to their box. All without another word or comment. Ellone took that as a dismissal and she sensed anger in him now.

"Why are you mad at me?" she asked.

He glanced at her over his shoulder and if his gaze could have set her on fire where she stood, she sensed she would burn like the witches of old.

"Didn't that make you feel anything, Elle?" he asked. "Anything at all?"

It did. Of course it did. The very thought of someone keeping a child imprisoned like that sickened her. If her own circumstances had been different, she might have been that child.

"That shit makes me want to puke," he said. "That's what she did to Squall. Locked him up in a fucking basement, chained him to a goddamned wall. Just like they did to her."

Ellone knew that. She'd seen it, the one time Thalia let her in. Not the basement in Trabia, but somewhere else.

"That doesn't bother you? That she's recreating her childhood and becoming the people who hurt her?"

"Yes, it bothers me."

"You could fucking show it, you know," he spat.

"I could," she said, "but what purpose would it serve? It doesn't fix anything, and it doesn't help him."

"No, but it's better than you burying it," Seifer said. "You're sitting here acting like  _that_ ," he gestured at the laptop, "is just a goddamned weather report."

Ellone choked back a swell of anger. Seifer's eyes flashed hot and his cheeks flushed, his intensity a terrifying thing when directed at her.

"Get angry, Elle," Seifer said. "You're allowed to be pissed. You _should_ be pissed."

"What do you want me to be pissed about?" she asked. She gestured at the laptop. "That? That just makes me sad."

"Sad?" he spat. "Just because she got locked in a shed when she was a kid doesn't give her the right to do the things she's done, does it? You shouldn't be sad, you should be fucking  _furious_ , Elle."

"Stop telling me how I should feel," Ellone said. "That could have been me, Seifer. It could have been me, but I was lucky. I had people willing to die to protect me, but just one small change in my circumstances and everything could have been different, so you don't get to tell me I'm not allowed to feel sorry for her!"

Seifer reached out but Ellone brushed his hand aside.

"Don't touch me."

Seifer stepped back and his hands curled into fists at his sides. He didn't say anything else, just watched her.

"I  _am_  angry. You have no idea how angry I am," she said, "but that doesn't mean I'm going to have a meltdown and throw a tantrum and kick things and scream and yell like I'm two years old!"

"Maybe you should," Seifer snapped. "I mean it works pretty well for me."

"Yes, well, I prefer not to make an ass of myself every time I'm upset."

"No, you just bottle it all up and pretend everything's sunshine and fuckin' roses."

He was trying to provoke her. Trying to push her buttons. She wasn't going to let him.

Ellone swallowed down her fury, collected herself and lifted her chin. There were a thousand things she could use as ammunition against him, but it wasn't worth it. Fighting with him would not help Squall.

"I'm going to bed," she said. "One of us should be getting something done."

"Elle-"

"Good night Seifer."

She turned on her heel for the guest room and as her hand laid on the knob, a blinding pain shot through her head. She gasped, grabbed hold of the frame to keep from sliding sideways. Her vision blurred and the door in front of her became a wall covered in childish drawings of monsters.

A whistle of wind, a sharp crack, a lick of fire against her bare back. The pain in her head was so intense, Ellone was sure she'd split her skull wide open. She slipped to her knees, biting back screams as the phantom switch struck her again and again.

Seifer said something but his words were garbled and slurred.

It only lasted a few seconds. Less than a minute, but still too long. The headache subsided but the skin of her back stung and throbbed.

"Squall again?" Seifer asked.

Ellone shook her head.

"Not Squall," she said. "I'm not sure what it was."

She suspected she knew, but she wasn't ready to say it. After all, it could be someone else, someone besides Thalia. Odine's secretary or the chatty doorman downstairs. Maybe.

Seifer's hand touched her back and she jumped. Seifer cursed and held his palm out to show her the blood on his fingers.

Without another word, Seifer scooped her up off the floor and carried her into the clean, sterile bathroom. Sort of a surprise his place was so tidy. She expected organized chaos, but the whole apartment was spotless.

He set her down on a plush bath mat beside the tub and turned on the tap.

"You're gonna have to take this off," Seifer said and tugged the sleeve of her top.

Ellone's cheeks colored and she hesitated. She didn't know why. He'd already seen everything there was to see back in Trabia. Maybe because in Trabia, she was not conscious for part of it, and too out of sorts to care.

"You need me to do it?" Seifer asked.

He sounded put out. Annoyed.

Ellone shook her head no and lifted the back of the top over her head. Seifer undid the clasp of her bra and began to dab at the wounds with a warm washcloth. The antiseptic in the potion burned, but not nearly as bad as the switch that inflicted the injury.

"It's gonna leave scars," he said.

Ellone didn't care about scars. She shrugged it off and winced against the potion burning her skin.

"How is this happening, El?" he asked.

"Maybe it's part of her gift."

"Yeah, but bending reality is one thing," Seifer said. "This is..."

He didn't finish the thought. Ellone closed her eyes and laid her head against her folded arms while Seifer rinsed the wash cloth in the bathtub. Hyne, she was so tired. As if that brief connection sucked all the strength out of her.

"You can put your shirt back on," Seifer said.

Ellone tugged it back over her head and allowed Seifer to help her to her feet. He tossed her a small bottle of pills from the medicine cabinet and filled a glass with water.

"Take two of those," he said.

"What are they?"

"Sleeping pills."

"I need to find Cid."

"You need to sleep, Elle," Seifer said. "Don't argue with me, alright? Just take 'em. You can find Cid tomorrow."

Ellone dutifully took the glass and swallowed the pills, too exhausted to debate it. 

* * *

A week overdue, Rinoa was no longer supposed to be working, but she refused to stay home. She tried, but laying in bed was the worst possible thing she could do to herself. She thought too much or stared blankly at the television, watching daytime dramas and talk shows that were so inane and nonsensical, she could barely follow. Maybe her body needed the rest, but her mind needed stimulation more.

She waddled toward her office as the scent of fresh brewed coffee made her crave a cup of real, actual caffeinated dark roast with cream and sugar. It smelled so good, her mouth watered.

She entered her office, reached for the light switch and promptly tripped over a box of copy paper that had been left in the middle of the floor. She grabbed hold of a folding chair as she fell, landed on her side with a cry and lay there, curled in a ball as the baby turned somersaults inside her.

"Mrs. Leonhart, are you okay?" Dana asked from the doorway. "Oh my god, did you fall?"

Dana flicked on the light and lifted her into a sitting position as Rinoa ran her hands over her stomach and exhaled from the dull pain in her hip.

"I think I'm okay," she said and brushed Dana's hands away from her shoulders. "I didn't go down too hard."

"Are you sure? I can call an ambulance."

Rinoa was sure she was okay, but she was going to have a fairly large bruise on her hip and maybe her elbow. Other than that, only her pride was damaged.

"I'm all right," she insisted. "But I'm too fat to get up on my own. Give me a hand?"

Dana held out her hand and Rinoa latched onto her wrist, pulled herself into a standing position and let herself be guided to the chair.

"Delivery guy left that there," Dana said. "I meant to move it, but it got busy and Chastity hasn't showed up yet."

Rinoa put a hand to her forehead. Chastity had started off as a solid employee, but her performance had slowly taken a turn for the worse. She chewed gum loudly while she waited on customers, she occasionally lost track of money, and now she was showing up late for work. As much as Rinoa hated to admit it, she was going to have to let the girl go.

"Give Daveda a call," Rinoa said. "See if she can come in to cover. She said she wanted more hours. And move that box, please. I'd do it myself, but I can't reach it with all this belly in the way."

Dana moved the box and Rinoa turned on the computer and called up her e-mail. In her inbox was a message from an address she didn't recognize, and there was an attachment. In the subject line was "SQUALL."

She hesitated, nearly moved it to the trash, but on a masochistic impulse, clicked it anyway.

Her screen was filled with an image of her husband laying on his side, his eyes closed with bloody saliva dripping from his lips. His handsome face was a battered mess, his chest covered in dark welts and bruises. In the corner of the photo was a date – October of last year.

Her breath caught in her throat and she pressed a hand over her mouth to hold back a sob.

"What the hell are you looking at?" Zell said behind her. "Oh, shit. Is that -"

Rinoa turned away from the screen and sobbed silently into her palms. Just when she thought it was getting easier, some idiot felt the need to remind her.

Zell leaned across her, typed something, and then closed the message.

"Why would someone send me that?" she murmured.

"Because some people are assholes," Zell said. "I blocked the e-mail and reported it to the admin. Probably won't do much, but I can poke around and see if I can find out who sent it."

Rinoa sniffled into her palms and when she lifted them away, she took in her friend's appearance to distract herself from the photo. Zell wore a black tank top and stained carpenter's pants, and his arms and neck were smeared with grease. He smelled like motor oil and gasoline.

"What have you been doing?" she asked. "Did the car break down?"

"No, I, uh, bought the Garage," he said. "Old man Clarence retired a couple months ago, didn't really want much to do with it anymore, and his kids and grand kids weren't really managing it well, so he sold it to me. Cheap."

"Did you mention it to me?" Rinoa wondered. "Or was this a spur of the moment thing?"

A dull, uncomfortable cramp cut across Rinoa's lower abdomen and she shifted in her seat and looked away so Zell wouldn't see her wince. The movement caused the baby to kick her in the side and she sucked in a soft breath.

"You okay?" Zell asked.

"Just the baby, kicking," she said. "You were saying?"

"Spur of the moment," Zell said and perched himself at the end of her desk. "I paid cash, so I'm out most of my savings, but I figure if I take on work from the marina, too, I'll make a decent living off it. So long as nothing major breaks that I have to pay to fix..."

"Well, that's great," she said sincerely as another, sharper cramp built in her lower back. "I'm happy for you."

"You're not okay," Zell said as he stood and leaned over her. "You just got really pale. Like, really pale."

"I think I might be going into labor," she said.

The baby did another flip and tap danced against her bottom rib. She winced, pushed to her feet then braced herself against the desk as a wave of dizziness washed over her.

"Oh, shit," Zell said. "Rin, you need to go to the hospital!"

His eyes were as big as saucers when she glanced up at him and she couldn't figure out why. She assumed it was just his natural, excitable nature and he was about to overreact in his usual, spectacular manner.

"I've got some time," she murmured. "I'm not having full contractions yet."

"Yeah, forget contractions," Zell said. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

"I'm fine," she insisted, but she was really, really dizzy. "Don't get all excited."

"Uh, Rin, you're bleeding," he said. "Bad."


	12. Chapter 12

A clipboard was pressed into Zell's hands as Rinoa was wheeled away on a gurney. He filled it out as best as he could, unsure how to answer questions about allergies and whether or not her family had a history of heart disease or diabetes. The pen wobbled in his grip as he checked boxes and wrote in addresses, his attention divided by worries that something would happen to Rinoa or the baby, or both.

Months ago, Rinoa had given him temporary power of attorney, just in case something happened, but he never thought he'd need to use it. He figured, worst case scenario, he might have to pick Ella up from school when she was sick, not possibly have to make decisions that could affect Rinoa's whole life.

When the forms were completed, he turned them in at the desk and started making phone calls. The first was to her father, who was in an important meeting and could not be reached. He left a message with Caraway's secretary, then called Laguna.

"Hey, it's Zell-"

"Is it time? Is my grandson on the way?" Laguna asked, more excited than usual.

"Yeah, but... she fell and she's bleeding and the doctors haven't told me if everything's okay yet," Zell said. "She said she wasn't hurt but there was a lot of blood. Like, a _lot_."

"Is the baby okay?"

"I don't know, man. They're not telling me anything."

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Laguna swore. "Let me know if anything changes, good or bad."

"Yeah, sure," Zell said. "Hey, by the way, have you been in touch with Ellone at all? I tried to get a hold of her a few days ago and she never called me back."

"She's been busy," Laguna said. "On assignment. I gotta go. I'll see you as soon as I can."

Ellone was on assignment? Doing what? As far as Zell knew, she'd been on the White SeeD ship, doing whatever she normally did.

It wasn't unusual to not be able to get a hold of her, but the way Laguna said it was weird. Like he was hiding something or knew something and didn't want to talk about it.

Zell shrugged if off and decided to message Selphie instead of call. He wasn't in the mood to hear her shriek in his ear. Soon enough, she'd be sitting beside him, sobbing and being over-dramatic and annoying, and Zell was already on the verge of a freak-out of his own. He didn't need Selphie to add to it.

He called Quistis next.

"I'm in town," she said. "I'm on my way now."

It had been a while since Zell had seen Quistis – not since he'd been released from duty. They'd exchanged a few phone calls and messages, but she'd been too busy and Zell had thrown himself into his new role as town grease monkey and repair guy, and there seemed no shortage of work.

Quistis arrived before Selphie and she looked tired. Older. As if responsibilities at Garden were sucking the life out of her. Zell had heard through the grapevine that Garden's struggles had only gotten worse since they dismissed their most experienced operatives. Mission failures were higher than average, money was tight, enrollment was too high for the number of instructors, but they couldn't afford to hire more.

He hated to see it fall apart. Garden had been his second home, a place he owed most of his skills to. Damn Cid for making such a mess of things. Damn him for washing his hands of it.

"I'd hug you, but I'm kinda coated in grease," he told Quistis when she arrived.

"I don't care," Quistis said and threw her arms around him for a quick but tight hug. When she released him, she asked, "How is she?"

"Dunno," he said. "No news."

Quistis sat in one of the plastic chairs set along the wall and motioned for Zell to join her. They made small talk to pass the time until Selphie arrived with Ella.

Ella, still dressed for dance class, hurled herself at Zell and scrambled into his lap. Her tutu bunched up against his chest, and she smelled like cupcakes. A second later, he saw why. Frosting was smeared around her lips and down her chin and her fingers were sticky. Zell blamed Selphie. She had a bad habit of treating Ella to sweets because she liked them herself, even though Rinoa had specifically said not to do it.

"What's up, bud?" Zell asked as he wiped the frosting from her face. "How was school?"

Ella answered with a loud, heartbroken sob.

"You smell like car stuff," she bawled.

Her big blue eyes filled with tears and her bottom lip jutted out in a pout.

"What are the tears for, kiddo?" Zell asked. "Because I smell like cars?"

"No. 'Cause I didn't want a brother," she cried. "And now he got hurt."

Zell smoothed her hair back from her face. Hyne, she looked so much like Squall. More and more, every day, Zell saw his lost friend in Ella, and it broke his heart. He wiped away her tears and fixed her unruly pony tail and tried to ignore the swell of paternal affection brewing in his chest.

That too, got stronger every day, and he couldn't help it. Somewhere in playing substitute dad, it had started to feel like the real thing, even though he knew better.

"It's not your fault," he promised.

"But I wanted him to go away," she said. "I didn't want us to have him."

Zell glared at Selphie and wondered what she'd said to Ella. Selphie paused in her incessant chatter to Quistis to look guilty for a split second before she continued.

"It wasn't very nice to want him to go away," Zell said as he tucked flyaway strands of her hair behind her ears, "but it's not your fault your mom fell. And if something happens and the baby doesn't come home, it isn't because you didn't want him to, kiddo. Wishing something to be true doesn't always make it true."

Hyne wasn't that the truth?

Ella leaned into his shoulder and pondered that for a while. When the air conditioner kicked on, she shivered and snuggled closer.

"You cold, bud?" he asked. "Where's your sweater?"

"At school," she said. "I forgot."

"We'll have to remember to get it tomorrow," Zell said. "Your mom will flip if you lose it."

"I know," Ella said. "Hey Uncle Zell? Are you going to be my dad now?"

That question was a fist to the gut.

And Zell didn't know how to answer.

His feelings were complicated, and growing more so by the day. He wasn't in love. More like, in love with the idea of having a family to come home to at the end of the day. Temporarily stepping into Squall's shoes showed him how cool it could be to be someone's father, and it showed him how very badly he wanted that for himself.

"Hey, Sef?" he asked. "Would you mind running by the house and getting Ella and me a change of clothes?"

Selphie frowned at him over Quistis' shoulder.

"Why can't you go get them?"

"I have power of attorney," he said. "I can't leave, in case something happens."

"Fine," Selphie snapped. "Quistis, you're coming with me."

Selphie grabbed Quistis' hand and dragged her to her feet, leaving Zell and Ella alone in the hall.

"Uncle Zell," Ella said. "So are you? Gonna be my dad?"

"No, sweetie," he said. "Still just plain old Uncle Zell."

"What if mommy dies?" Big blue eyes, full of worry.

"If something happens to your mom, which it won't, you'll go live with Grandpa Laguna in Esthar."

"But I don't want to. I want to live with you."

"Yeah, but Laguna lives in a Palace, remember? That's like a castle," Zell said. "You'd be the Princess of Esthar."

Ella considered that for a minute.

"Can't I stay with you?"

"Kiddo, your mom is gonna be fine," he swore and hoped it wasn't a lie. "She'll be fine."

The longer the doctor made him wait, the more worried Zell became. His brain conjured a dozen and a half tragic things that could happen and the longer he waited, the more tragic they got. By the time the doctor finally stepped into the hall Zell was braced for bad news.

As the doctor approached, he set Ella on her feet and accepted her small hand when she reached for his.

"How is she, Doc?"

"Are you the father?"

He'd written on Rinoa's admittance form that the father was deceased. Apparently, no one read those forms.

"I'm the Uncle," he said. "How's she doing?"

"The fall caused a minor placental abruption, which is what caused the hemorrhage," the doctor said.

Zell just stared at the doctor. He had no idea what that meant.

"Layman here," Zell said. "Smaller words, Doc."

"The fall caused the placenta to pull away from the uterine wall," the doctor said. "That is what caused the bleeding."

"That sounds bad," Zell said. "It looked bad."

"If it had happened earlier, it would have been a much bigger concern because it could impact nutrition and oxygen levels and it would have required surgery to save him," the doctor said, "but since she's already a week overdue, there shouldn't be any major complications, so long as we go ahead and induce labor now."

In the movies, falls always caused a tragic miscarriage or some other sad outcome. All Zell needed to know was whether or not they were going to be okay.

"So the baby didn't get hurt in the fall or anything?" he asked.

"I doubt he even felt it," the doctor said. "The womb is much more insulated than people think. We don't expect he sustained any injuries. Mom on the other hand might have a few bumps and bruises, but I'm confident she'll make a full recovery."

Zell was so relieved, he almost hugged the doctor. Instead he lifted Ella up to his hip and hugged her.

"See?" he whispered. "Everybody's okay. Now we just gotta wait."

Ella laid her head against his shoulder and stuck her thumb in her mouth. Zell pulled it out and held onto her wrist, knowing her sudden reversion into early childhood behaviors had a lot to do with her need to remain the baby of the family. He'd read that in one of Squall's rather large collection of parenting books on those nights when he couldn't sleep.

"So, what happens now?"

"If all goes well, Mrs. Leonhart will give birth to a healthy baby boy," the doctor said.

"Can we see her?" he asked and tightened his grip on Ella's hand.

"Once we have her prepped, it shouldn't be a problem," the doctor said. "I'll send a nurse out when we've got her settled in."

Selphie returned with a change of clothes and a bag of snacks. She helped Ella change in the ladies room while Zell used the men's to clean up. He washed the grease from his neck and arms, then changed into the track suit Selphie had inexplicably chosen for him.

On one hand, it had been a gift from his Ma, and comfort was important. On the other, the color and cut made him look like a sleazy Timberian drug lord. All he needed were a huge pair of sunglasses and a big ugly watch to complete the look.

When he emerged, a nurse was there to take him and Ella into Rinoa's room. Pale faced but awake, Rinoa smiled dopily when they entered. Ella started to sob and dashed to the bedside, where she attempted to climb the bed rail before Zell could stop her. He caught her around the waist before she could crawl into the bed and set her back on her feet.

"Sorry, bud," he said as he sat down on a stool and settled Ella onto his lap. "Not a good idea."

"Stelly-Belly, why are you crying?" Rinoa asked.

"I was scared you got hurt and the baby wouldn't get born anymore," she sniffled.

"Oh, sweetie, we're okay," Rinoa promised. She reached out and smoothed a hand over Ella's cheek and brushed away her tears. "The doctor just needed to check us out."

"But he's still coming right?" she asked.

"Probably today," Rinoa said. "And he can't wait to see you."

"Decide on a name yet?" Zell asked. "You're sorta out of time."

"I know," she said. "Oh... owwwww."

Zell sat up, alarmed as Rinoa's face scrunched up and she shifted forward with one hand on her lower abdomen. This whole baby thing was fascinating, but it was also terrifying. The more Zell saw and read, the scarier it got.

"Do I need to get a doctor?" Zell asked.

"Not yet," she said, through gritted teeth. "It's not quite time yet."

"Ella, why don't you go back to your Aunt Selphie for a little while. Your mom and I need to talk," Zell said. "I think Selphie brought some snacks and coloring books for you."

"I'll draw the baby a picture for his new room," Ella said.

"I think he'll like that, bud," Zell said. He pressed a kiss to her temple and rolled toward the door to ensure she made her way back to Selphie before he returned to Rinoa. "You scared the shit out of me."

"I didn't think I fell that hard," she said.

"Well, you did," he said more sharply than he intended. "You gotta take better care of yourself, Rin."

"I know," she whispered.

"I'm not gonna lecture," he said. "I'm too relieved to lecture."

Rinoa turned her eyes away from his face and took in his outfit. She struggled not to smile and failed.

"What are you wearing?" she asked. "You look like a Galbadian mob boss."

"My Ma bought it," he said. "Don't change the subject."

"Did you get in touch with my father?"

"Left a message. Hasn't called back," he said. "Laguna's on his way, though."

Rinoa's eyes went glassy and she settled back into the pillow. Zell didn't need to be told that she was thinking about Squall and missing him.

It should have been Squall sitting in Zell's place, and it wasn't fair. For more reasons than he could count. Zell considered himself a poor substitute, but he reached out anyway, slipped his hand into Rinoa's and settled in for the ride.

In the hours that followed, she nearly broke that hand twice.

Zell expected it to be like television, with screaming and cursing and panting and sweating, but it wasn't. Rinoa was surprisingly quiet through all of it, even when the contractions were at their strongest, the sounds she made were more like close lipped sobs and thin whines than the screaming, howling man-hating abuse portrayed in movies.

"Doing good, Rin," he promised between contractions. "Almost there."

"I just want him out," she said breathlessly.

Zell couldn't imagine what any of this was like. He'd read a few books that described the process, and during his cadet days, they'd all been forced to watch a birthing video that left every one of them more or less traumatized afterward, but that did not compare to actually being there. It was amazing and horrifying and he was weirdly proud of Rinoa for toughing it out like she was.

He didn't watch the actual birth. That long-ago video was plenty, and it would be way too weird for both of them. Instead, he stayed beside Rinoa, acting the part of the cheerleader and supportive friend as the doctor shouted instructions at her.

Ari Gage Leonhart was born ten minutes before midnight.

Zell thought the name fit. Ari, an ancient Centran word for lion, and Gage because Ella picked it and because it sounded like something related to Squall's gunblade.

In the controlled chaos that followed Ari's birth, Zell was passed forms to sign while the doctors tended to mother and son. He paid little attention to what he signed, sparing them only a glance to find the signature line before he handed them back.

To his surprise, a short time later, the nurse placed the tiny bundle in his arms while Rinoa dozed.

"Congratulations, daddy," the nurse said.

Zell didn't bother to correct her. Something weird was going on in his chest. A knot in his throat and short of breath, Zell just nodded and stared at Ari's scrunched, red little face.

The boy was so small, and so vocal for someone just minutes old. He squirmed in Zell's arms and cried thin but angry cries until Zell cradled him closer, and for lack of any better ideas, started to hum a lullaby Matron used to sing.

"Hey, little dude," Zell murmured once Ari settled down. "It's about time you showed up."

* * *

Seifer woke with a start, convinced he'd murdered his wife. Except, he didn't have a wife, and if he ever walked that plank, divorce seemed a more rational choice for separation than murder. He was no stranger to savage killing, but the dream was notable for its brutality.

As he sat up to blink it away, he could still feel the knife in his hand, the way the blade sliced through skin and bone, could still hear the sound of her screams, her pleas for mercy.

" _Please, Squall, stop!"_

Not his wife. Squall's.

"Holy mother of Hyne," he murmured and leaned over to rouse Ellone.

She lay slumped against the couch cushions, instead of in the train car's bunk where she belonged. Behind closed lids, her eyes moved rapidly. One fist in her lap clenched and unclenched and a thin whine escaped her lips.

"Noooooo, oh god I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Rin wake up, please wake up, I didn't mean it!" she cried as her fist made a stabbing motion against the fabric of the couch. "Please wake up!"

Chilled, Seifer shook her harder.

"El, come on," he said. "Don't do this to me again."

When the seizure hit, he was ready for it. He slipped from his seat and into the space next to her, wrapped his arms around her and held on. Violent tremors passed through her body and her eyes stared emptily up at the ceiling.

It seemed like forever before the tension in her muscles eased. She slumped against him, shivering, and blinked her way back to the present. Her hands lifted to her face and came away bloody.

Seifer caught one of her wrists and turned it toward him to inspect the damage. He saw no visible injury, just smears of blood her delicate hands. Broken, abraded skin reddened the knuckles of her left hand, but otherwise, she appeared unharmed.

"Tell me that didn't really happen."

She shook her head and stared at her bloody palms.

"It's getting worse," she said. "It felt real, didn't it?"

Seifer nodded and leaned down to reach for his bag. He grabbed the first thing he found, a balled pair of clean socks, and wiped the blood from her hands.

"If it wasn't real, whose blood is this?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said. "Maybe it's not real either. Maybe we just think it is."

Seifer wondered if that meant the scars on her back would disappear once this was all over.

He was getting sick of this whole thing. Sick of chasing lead after lead, only to find themselves at another dead end. Sick of watching Ellone wake up covered in blood.

It wasn't her gift he feared now, as much as he feared what all this was doing to her. It sucked the life out of her. What little sleep she got was interrupted by involuntary connections like this one, and Seifer wasn't sure how much longer she would last before she couldn't continue anymore.

His attempt to draw Accountant out and arrange a meeting hadn't worked out. It was likely the Shumi had recognized him at Garden and put two and two together. There were no leads from Laguna's search of marine vessels, nothing even close to follow up on. Cid himself was all they had left, and that was a last resort.

At this point, the only thing that kept Seifer from giving up was Ellone's insistence that Squall was still alive. Even that, Seifer was beginning to question as dead end after dead end cropped up. The world was a big place, but it was pretty hard to hide for so long without being seen. How Thalia evaded anyone's notice could only be explained by her ability to make people see something else.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded.

"Something Thalia showed Squall," Ellone said as she sat up. "Something she wanted me to see."

"She invited you in this time?"

"Not exactly," Ellone said. "She sensed me. She was showing off."

Seifer shuddered as he recalled what he'd dream-witnessed and he pushed to his feet, turned his back on Ellone and went to the drink cart by the door to pour her a glass of water.

He wondered how Ellone lived with all the things she saw. Some people called it a gift, but after living with her for the last eight months, Seifer knew it was no gift.

"I didn't mean to take you with me," Ellone said. "Sometimes, I can't help it."

Seifer poured the water, returned to the couch, and waited while she took a sip. He took note of the dark circles under her eyes, the defeated set of her shoulders, the smear of drying blood on her forearm, and thought about sending her back to Laguna or Edea. She wouldn't agree, and she'd probably fight him tooth and nail, but he didn't want this on his conscience.

If it happened again, he'd hog tie and gag her if he had to, then drop her on Laguna's doorstep. For her own good. And his. The consequences of her getting badly hurt on his watch were too great.

"Why the hell doesn't she just kill him or let him go?" Seifer asked. "I don't get it. Why keep him? I mean, Cid's not gonna come out of hiding to save him, so what's the point?"

"He's like a toy to her," she said. "And no matter what she does, she can't seem to completely break him. It's become a challenge. To see how far she can push him."

An unexpected chill passed through him at the thought. He wondered why Squall didn't just give in, let the madness take him. Seifer knew from experience, it was easier that way.

"I'm worried about what happens if he does break," she said.

Seifer knew what would happen. He knew what it was like to have his mind twisted and bent to the point where the fantasy felt more real than reality. There was a certain freedom in madness, and a kind of giddy high that was hard to recapture as a semi-sane person. There was also a kind of nagging, paranoid terror that was hard to shake, and it lasted long after reality set in.

It had been hard to come back from that, but it wasn't impossible. Seifer would never be a picture of good mental health, by anyone's definition. He enjoyed the wet work too much, and he cared too little about other people's feelings, but he was about as sane as anyone else he knew. Squall was just as strong as Seifer was, in his own way. If he lived through it, he'd find his way back, too. Eventually.

"We'll deal with that if it happens," Seifer said. "So long as we get him home alive."

Ellone nodded, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Not crying, he noticed, but exhausted.

"How do you deal with this all the time, El?" he asked. "The shit you see?"

She blinked and got up as Seifer settled back against the couch cushions.

"I try not to get into people's heads at all," she said. "I don't like seeing the things they hide. It's too personal."

"That why you stayed out of mine?"

She turned back to him and looked him straight in the eye. Hyne, he hated when she did that. He always got the sense she could see right through him. Like she could see what he truly was on the inside.

"I don't need to get in your head to know what happened," she said. "Or what you're afraid of."

"I'm not afraid of anything," he said.

"Everyone's afraid of something," she said. "You're not an exception."

She said it like she knew every last one of his secrets, like she could read him like a book.

On edge, he sat forward and locked eyes with her.

"Enlighten me."

"You want to hear everything, or should I give you the highlights?"

"That better be a joke."

The corner of Ellone's mouth twitched upward but she didn't smile.

"You're afraid of yourself. Deep down, you're afraid of what you're really capable of," Ellone said. "I don't mean doing Esthar's dirty work and disposing of the bodies in a manner that ensures Laguna will never be implicated. I mean there's a part of you that loved every second of being a monster and that terrifies you."

If she'd stripped naked in the middle of the room, Seifer would have been less shocked than he was now. He blinked at her, floored by how close her assessment was and he had no response or defense against it.

"There's more," she said. "If you want to hear it."

Chilled, Seifer shook his head, sat back and looked out the window because he couldn't look her in the eye any longer. How the fuck could she read him so clearly without digging around inside his head?

"Not the answer you were expecting?" she mused and returned to her place on the couch. "You shouldn't ask questions that you don't want the answer to. But... that's exactly what it's like, being able to do what I do. Even when it's voluntary, I don't always want to know the truth."

Seifer thought about that. How frustrating it must have been, to try to sleep and be drawn in to someone's most private and personal moments. More than that, it was disconcerting that she'd put her finger on the one thing he feared most without even getting inside his head.

"You learn to read people," she said, as if she'd read his mind. "When you've had to spend your whole life watching but never able to participate."

Her hand slid over his and gripped it tight. A spike of fear ripped through his chest at her touch and he yanked his hand a way, sure that she could see everything he wanted to stay hidden in that brief moment of contact.

That was absurd, but it didn't change anything.

"For what it's worth, I understand," she said. "Being afraid of what you could be, what you are."

"How could you?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Her smile was ironic.

"You don't think I've been tempted to use my powers for evil instead of good? Imagine, finding out something that you can use against someone for your own gain," she said. "It would be really, really easy to abuse it. And I've thought about it. More often than you would believe."

So, Ellone had a dark side of her own. And here Seifer thought she was a goody-goody, too pure for this world, immune to the evil that blackened the hearts of lesser beings.

It was comforting to know he wasn't the only one that struggled with their inner bad seed, though he didn't believe Ellone would ever willingly succumb to hers. She had too many morals. She was too kind-hearted to go down that path unless the circumstances were extreme and she had no other choice.

"I'm thinking that would be really useful for extortion purposes," he mused. "You could get filthy fuckin' rich. Just imagine all the dirt you could get on politicians."

Ellone folded her hands in her lap, all prim an proper. Seifer found himself intrigued by the duality. A good girl with a dark side. It wasn't her only duality, but for the moment, it was the most interesting, and he found the idea of letting her give in to corruption a fascinating prospect, in spite of his history with corrupt magic.

"Why do you think I've been on the run most of my life?" she asked.

"Don't tell me you've got some kinda blackmail scheme going," Seifer said. "You got the mob after you or something?"

" _No_ ," she said, exasperated.  "It's partially because there are people who would want to use my gift for that exact purpose. Believe me, Adel wasn't the only one interested in what I could do."

"Can't really blame them," he said.  "You could do a lot of damage if you knew the right secrets. You know, influence an election, or dismantle a monopoly, break up a marriage. But, I bet the thought never crossed your mind."

The look she gave him was hard.  

"What makes you think I _haven't_ ruined someone for the secrets they've kept?" she asked.  "There's a reason Laguna keeps me on the payroll." 

Stunned, Seifer sat back and watched for any sign she was bullshitting him.  When she didn't crack a smile, he realized he was going to have to rethink his assumption that Ellone Loire was squeaky freaking clean and completely incapable of doing wrong. 

"Not such a nice girl after all, are you," Seifer said softly. "Well, how about that?"

She rolled her eyes at his suggestive tone and shoved his shoulder.

"Has anyone ever told you you're terrible at flirting?"

"Who said I was flirting?"

"I'm immune, Almasy, so don't bother."

To Seifer, it sounded like a challenge. Like she was daring him to try harder. That was interesting.

So far, whatever flirting he might have done was just a way to get under her skin and rile her up for fun. He couldn't deny she was attractive in a girl-next-door sort of way. Not the jaw-dropping kind of beauty that usually drew his eye, but she was growing on him, even though she creeped him out a little too often.

Now was not the time to ponder it. They would arrive in Timber soon and from there, they'd take a charter to the orphanage, Cid's last known location.

"Just so you know," Seifer said, changing the subject. "If Kramer gives me a hard time, I'm not holding back. I'll do what I have to."

"I hope you don't have to," she said. "But, he created this mess. He should answer for it."

* * *

Ari's first week home was rough for everyone. Rinoa worried he didn't sleep enough, and even with Zell pitching in to alternate shifts, he still woke every two hours and by the time the week ended, she was so tired, stupid little things made her cry, for no reason. A sentimental commercial. Ella, reading Ari a story in fits and starts as she sounded out the words. Forgetting to buy bananas for Ella's lunch. Getting up to find Zell had already swooped in to feed him. Anything and everything set her off.

Ella adjusted to the idea of being a big sister, but she too suffered from lack of sleep and it made her cranky and short tempered. She didn't want to go to school. She didn't want to come home from school. She cried over everything, just like Rinoa, but hers were mostly crocodile tears, especially when she felt left out.

After the first couple of days, though, Ella warmed to the idea of being a big sister. She chattered at Ari constantly. She sang her favorites songs to him and promised to be the best big sister in the whole world.

Her father visited two days after Ari was born. He showed up without notice, barely looked at Ari and tried to offer her unwanted advice before she shut him down and told him he could go home if that was all he wanted to discuss. Ella stared at him like he was a stranger. His gruffness scared her, and she refused to go with him when he suggested a walk to the ice cream stand on the corner.

"Is that man living with you?" he said of Zell.

"Yes," she said. "Not that it's your business."

"I could understand one of your girlfriends coming to stay for a while," he said, "but you do understand how improper it is to have a man you're not married to under your roof."

"His name is Zell, and he also one of my friends," she said. "And I honestly don't care what's proper and what isn't. So unless you plan to take time off work and actually help me instead of telling me what to do, then I suggest you drop it."

Her father's dark eyes narrowed and he shook his head in disappointment.

"I am helping you," he said. "You're just not hearing me."

"You want to help? Change a diaper," she said and slammed a frying pan down on the stove. "Otherwise, go back to Deling City."

He'd left shortly after that. Once he'd gone, Rinoa sat down in the middle of the kitchen and cried.

Her mood brightened when Laguna arrived later that day with flowers, piles of gifts and a bottle of her favorite Estharin wine.

"Ellone didn't come with you?" she asked, a little disappointed.

"Eh, she's tied up with something right now," Laguna said. "Hard to get in touch with, you know."

"She's with Edea?"

Rinoa was still confused about that. She hadn't seen or heard from Edea for over a year now. Well before Squall disappeared. When Ella was born, Edea visited regularly, with actual useful advice.

"Not exactly," Laguna said. "Can't talk about it."

Rinoa knew Ellone occasionally accepted contracts from the Estharian government. Always dream magic stuff and never discussed. Rinoa didn't bother to ask, but she was disappointed. If Ellone was around more, she suspected they'd share a friendly sibling-like relationship. Unfortunately, Ellone never stayed in one place long.

Ari took to Laguna right away. He was captivated by the sound of Laguna's voice and fell quiet whenever Laguna spoke. And Laguna was equally enthralled by his grandson. Like Squall, he didn't want to put the boy down.

"He's beautiful, Rin," Laguna said. "Squall would be so proud."

He meant well, but it hurt.

At least he didn't assume the worst or criticize her for how she picked up the pieces.

Far too soon for Rinoa's liking, Laguna had to go back to Esthar. He left with a promise to return soon, and to pass along her message to Ellone. When he was gone, Rinoa wished he was already back. His good humor and understanding of grief was a comfort. He could relate to the part of her that missed Squall desperately and he didn't judge her for not being able to move on.

* * *

Later in the week, Rinoa received three more e-mails with photos of Squall. Every one of them tore her heart to shreds. He was too thin, his eyes too dull, with collections of bruises and cuts like abstract paintings on his skin. Each one came from a different address, and each of them, according to Zell was sent through an untraceable re-mailer. Attempts to message back were returned undeliverable.

Why someone would torment her like this, she didn't know, but she wanted it to stop. It was hard enough to get on with her life without the reminder of how horribly Squall had suffered. He'd spent the last weeks of his life in pain, waiting for someone to save him, and no one had come to his rescue.

She wished she had gone with Quistis. If she had, maybe he would have been found alive, rather than sent back to her in a box.

The dates stamped in the corner of the last two photos didn't make sense. If they were to be believed, one was from January, the other from April. Rinoa couldn't allow herself to believe it was anything more than some sick game. It was too painful to hold onto hope he was alive. Even if her heart told her he wasn't really gone, the photos didn't make it true.

She went back to work three days after Ari was born, even though everyone told her to take it easy. No one but Laguna understood she needed to work to keep from slipping back into that overwhelming sadness she felt when she was alone.

When she caught Chastity slipping a twenty-gil bill from the cash drawer into her pocket, Rinoa fired her on the spot. Down a person, Rinoa put the word out she needed a part-time cashier and wound up hiring a young woman in her twenties named Melane.

Melane had recently moved from Dollet to start over after an ugly divorce. She was sweet, smart, knew her books, and had a head full of flaming red hair. Rinoa could tell right away, she was going to work out fine, especially after she chased Rascal out of the store, brandishing a copy of the Book of Hyne as a weapon.

During the second week, after too many nights with too little sleep, Zell dragged the bassinet into Rinoa's room, plopped a freshly diapered Ari into it and dropped onto the bed beside Rinoa with a groan.

"I'm so tired," he sighed. "Little dude doesn't sleep."

Rinoa started to cry. She didn't even know why this time. Just that she was too tired to do anything else.

"Aww, Rin," he sighed. "Don't. Please don't cry."

"I didn't mean to," she bawled. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

Zell laughed, flipped onto his side and settled into the pillow.

 _Squall's_ pillow.

"You're just worn out," he said. "I'm so tired, I kinda wanna cry too."

Rinoa almost shoved him off the bed. It seemed so wrong. Zell meant nothing by it, and it probably hadn't even occurred to him that it would upset her, but it did. It no longer smelled like Squall, and now it would smell like Zell's cologne instead.

_Get over it, Rin. It's not Squall's side of the bed anymore._

She took a few deep breaths and squeezed her eyes shut to cut off the water works. It wasn't a big deal, and there was no use crying about it. It was just a pillow and Squall would never sleep there again.

"I propose we build a pillow fence," Zell said tiredly as he patted the space between them. "Because I don't think I can handle running down the hall again. Little dude's wearing me out."

It would be nice not to have to get up and trudge down the hallway. Rinoa agreed and tossed a heap of decorative pillows on the bed. She didn't think it was necessary to make a barricade. She trusted Zell to keep his hands to himself, but she wasn't going to disagree with it either.

"I have mad respect for every parent in the world right now," Zell said as he settled back down. "This is tough."

"Still wanna settle down?" she asked. "Now that you know what it's really like?"

He laughed softly.

"Kinda weird," he said, "but... Yeah."

"You're going to be a great dad when it's your turn," Rinoa promised. "You're so good with them."

It as true. He was great with Ella, and he didn't let her get too out of line, the way Selphie did. He'd spent hours outside, patiently teaching Ella to ride her bike. He let her put barrettes in his bangs and did voices for all her stuffed animals and made her clean up her toys when she was done with them. And he did it all without question, without being asked, and it was adorable and hilarious and Rinoa was so, so grateful he was there.

"You better not be about to suggest I hook up with Selphie again," he said. The bed shifted as he bundled himself in the blanket. "'Cause that's not gonna happen."

Rinoa laughed softly. "It was worth a shot."

"Don't worry," he said. "I'm not going to become whatever the guy version of a spinster is or start collecting cats and ratty bathrobes."

Exhaustion made the statement funnier than it was. Rinoa started to giggle and couldn't stop. Five minutes ago, she'd been sobbing, and now a sort of weary hysteria settled in as tears of laughter leaked from her eyes. A mental picture of a scruffy, overweight Zell in a ratty yellow bathrobe with cats crawling all over him only made it worse.

"It wasn't that funny, Rin," Zell said.

"Now I know what to get you for your birthday next year," she said through her giggles.

"A girlfriend?" he asked. "'Cause that would be nice."

Rinoa sobered and propped herself up on her elbows to look over the pillow fence at her friend.

"Zell, if all this -" she gestured around her, "is holding you back, please don't think you have to stay. You're not responsible for me, so if you need to go and do whatever, please don't let me stop you."

"It's cool, Rin," he said. "I don't mind."

"But -"

"Just think of it this way," he said. "When I'm married and my kids are driving me nuts, you can pay me back by babysitting or something."

"Deal," she said. "But I owe you more than that."

"You don't owe me anything," he said. "I'm here 'cause I wanna be. But if I ever start driving you nuts, feel free to throw me out. I still got a room at Ma's."

Rinoa settled back down and closed her eyes.

"We should invite her for dinner," she murmured. "We'll barbecue or something."

"I think she'd like that," Zell said. "And if we barbecue, she can't commandeer the kitchen."

Like Zell, Ma liked to feed and take care of people. She was a sweet but tough woman, and Ella loved her. Rinoa loved her.

In the bassinet, Ari stirred, gave a cry and Rinoa groaned into her pillow. She sat up slowly, but Zell was already on his feet. He lifted the baby into his arms and returned to the bed and sat propped up against the headboard.

"What's the matter, little dude?" he asked. "Are we keeping you awake?"

He let Ari settle against his shoulder and stroked the boy's back to soothe him. Ari's tiny hand wrapped around Zell's thumb and he made soft little grunting sounds against Zell's chest.

Rinoa's tears came back with a vengeance. Zell deserved a family of his own and she couldn't shake the feeling she was holding him back.

"I think he's going to look like you," Zell said.

"Too soon to tell," Rinoa said. "But he's already got my eyes, I think. They're getting darker."

She sat up lifted the pillow between them and leaned her head against Zell's shoulder. She closed her eyes as his arm came up around her waist.

Just for a second, she pretended he was Squall.

* * *

The charter docked just south of the lighthouse at the Cape of Good Hope under a dim sky that promised rain. Ellone looked at the familiar landscape with a mixture of sadness and nostalgia. Winhill aside, some of her happiest days had been spent here. Even in her grief, there was something about this place that represented some of the best things childhood had to offer.

Though she'd lost a year of that childhood, and she'd been forced to grow up too fast because of it, she had fond memories of the days spent in Edea's care. The Cape was quiet, but the house was not. It had been lively and full of laughter and fun.

She remembered how determined Seifer was as a young child, how his mouth would twist in concentration as he tried to climb things and how frustrated he would get when whatever mission he was on didn't work out to his liking. More than one toy had gone flying across the room when it failed to entertain him to his satisfaction. He'd been ornery and determined and completely unafraid of the world around him.

He was the kid that would take off his diaper and run naked through the house because it made Edea scream, and he would laugh as she chased him down, his chubby cheeks pink and his eyes bright. He'd disliked clothes for a time, and more than once had been discovered in some corner without a stitch on, happily dismantling something or stalking a spider as it crawled up the wall.

Thank Hyne he'd outgrown his love of nudity, but she had a feeling he still had no shame. He might believe himself a hawk or some bird of prey but in reality, he was a peacock – beautiful, proud, and aggressive.

As opinionated and troublesome as he was as a boy, he was also quick to laugh and could be sweet when he wanted to be. She remembered the way he'd crash into her and throw his arms around her neck, laughing as he crawled into her lap, often forcing Squall out of it if he was there.

He had to be the center of everything, and when he wasn't, he got upset. In a house full of kids, it was hard for Edea to give them all the attention they needed, and Seifer preferred attention of the undivided kind.

Funny, how he hadn't changed so much. He was still showy, a little dramatic and craved all the attention. But he was broken, too. Not that Ellone could fault him for that. Ellone didn't know anyone who wasn't a little fractured. It was just that Seifer was more damaged than most, even if he hid it well. She'd heard him cry out in his sleep, plagued by dreams he wouldn't talk about.

"El?" Seifer called over his shoulder. "You coming?"

Ellone looked up and realized she'd stopped walking near the end of the dock, lost in her own thoughts.

"You in someone's head or what?" he asked.

"No," she said. "Just... remembering."

Seifer looked up at the lighthouse and nodded, then broke into a big, toothy grin.

"Yeah," he agreed. "A lot of memories here."

"Good ones, I hope?"

He turned in a slow circle, taking in the view of the beach and the plains.

"Some of the best," he said.

They walked the overgrown path and carefully navigated the crumbling steps to the beach. Seifer was keyed up, eager to confront Cid. In spite of that, his mood was light for a change. Maybe it was just being off the charter, or the memories of simpler times. Either way, he was easier to deal with when he was in a good mood, and easier to like.

Ellone wasn't sure about his plan, but she hoped it would give them the boost they needed. It was hard not to lose hope when every direction they turned, they found themselves at a dead end.

The steps up to the orphanage were crumbling too. Near the top, Seifer slid two feet and clipped his chin on the rough stone. When he stood, he was bleeding a little.

"Watch your step," Ellone said.

"Now you tell me."

He rubbed this thumb and forefinger together and Ellone was surprised to see a small blue flame leap from his fingertip. Ellone watched in fascination as he pressed it to his wound. When he lifted it away, it was healed, leaving behind only a thin pinkish line and a smear of blood.

"Wow," she murmured. "I didn't know you could do that."

His mouth twisted into a nervous smile, his vulnerability unexpected. He feared her judgment. As if she had any right.

"I guess now I know who set the old washing machine on fire back in the day."

Seifer stared at her, then broke into a grin.

"Yeah, that was me."

"You blamed Zell."

"What can I say? Easy target."

"Poor Zell."

"He had it coming," Seifer said. "Little tattle-tale."

Seifer was more cautious the rest of the way up. At the top, they surveyed the sorry state the place was in. The back wall was crumbling and part of the roof caved in.

Ellone knew it was in bad shape before they booked the charter. She'd been there the summer before with Edea and the ever revolving crew of orphans, but it hadn't been this bad. The winter storms must have done a number on the already run-down structure.

Sad to see it falling apart. If repairs weren't done soon, in few more years, and it would be nothing more than a pile of stone and rotting wood. There was no way anyone could live here now, even for a few weeks.

"Got your blades ready?" Seifer asked.

"Yes, but I doubt I'm going to need them. It's  _Cid_. It's not like he's going to start shooting arrows at us or chase us down with a sword."

"First rule of combat, always be prepared," he said. He held up a finger. "Second rule, cover your ass. Third rule, never underestimate your opponent."

"Yes, drill sergeant, sir," Ellone replied and gave a sloppy salute.

"The second you don't take it seriously," Seifer said as he stepped inside the crumbling structure, "someone is going to hand you your ass on a dessert tray. Just remember that."

"It's so cute when you talk military to me," she said.

"Now who's flirting?" he replied. He flashed a smile over his shoulder. "As much as I'm enjoying your attempt to come onto me, now ain't the time."

"Oh, get over yourself," she said. "I do have standards."

"Yeah? I bet the White SeeD ship is just a hotbed of quality prospects for romantic partners."

It wasn't, but Ellone smiled haughtily and pushed past him into the moldering room. The beds were still there, the mattresses stained and torn and mildewed. She walked over to the bed were she used to sleep and ran her hand over the warped wooden footboard. The bed beside hers had belonged to Squall.

When she turned around, Seifer waited, his hands in his pockets, watching her.

"Ever been in love, El?" he asked.

It was a strange question to ask now. An especially strange question for Seifer to ask.

"Have you?" she countered.

"I came close once," he said. "A long time ago."

"Why do you ask?" she wondered as she drifted to the window with the view of the lighthouse. "Does it matter?"

"Just curious," he said. "Your failure to answer tells me no."

"Not a lot of opportunities when you've spent most of your life in hiding," she said. She ran her hand over the faded curtain. It was dry rotted and pieces came away in her hand. "And, it isn't always easy for people to understand me. I scare them."

"Yeah," he said, too quiet. "I know."

When she turned around, his eyes were on the floor and he poked at a loose stone on the floor with the toe of his boot. It was too humble a posture for him. Something was up, but Ellone couldn't figure out what. Maybe, it was just being here, where there were too many memories.

"Let's go do this," she said. "Cid was staying in the master bedroom."

She followed Seifer through the kitchen, smiled at the outdated and rusted stove, where Edea had taught her to bake, and continued into the front hall. The door to the bedroom was shut.

Seifer's hand went to Hyperion's grip as Ellone knocked lightly on the door.

"Cid?" she called. "It's Ellone. Are you in there?"

There was no answer. Ellone pressed an ear to the door and listened. She heard nothing, drew back and shook her head at Seifer.

"He's gotta be in there," Seifer said. "You saw him."

"Maybe he left before we got here," she said.

Seifer pounded on the door.

"Kramer, open the damn door!"

Nothing.

He turned the knob and pushed the door open. At first, all Ellone saw was white and dark red, the far wall painted in polka dots. Beside her, Seifer sucked in a sharp breath and pushed her back away from the door, shaking his head wordlessly, eyes wide with alarm.

"What?"

"He -" Seifer began and then shook his head again. "Stay back, El."

Ellone tried to push her way past him, but his hands wrapped tight around her forearms and backed her further down the hall, pressed her back against the stones and bowed his forehead into her hair. His chest rose and fell, his breath hot against her scalp.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

Seifer's next words were spoken in a breathless whisper.

"He shot himself, El. He's dead."

* * *

Seifer stood in Cid's bedroom, staring at the mess he'd left behind. Dried blood splattered the walls, and the sheets were awash with it. He kept his eyes averted from what remained of Cid's head and scanned the room for signs of an intruder, just in case things were not what they seemed.

He'd only been dead a few hours. The gun was still clenched in Cid's fist, his glasses folded neatly on a dry-rotted end table. Next to them was a sheet of yellowed stationery with two words scrawled in Cid's loopy script.

_I'm sorry._

Seifer wiped a hand over his face, messaged Laguna and turned away from the body. He wanted to call the man a coward for taking this route, but he knew from experience, suicide took more courage and commitment than most people believed. It was easy to stick a gun in your mouth, but not so easy to make yourself pull the trigger.

If it was, Seifer would be lying in some unremarkable grave somewhere in Centra. Probably beneath a headstone so defaced by haters, his name was no longer legible.

"Elle, can you connect with Edea?"

In the doorway, Ellone was pale and silent, but she nodded and drifted into the hall, her wrap pulled tight around her shoulders. She didn't need to be in here, didn't need to see it. There were enough nightmares in her head.

Seifer returned his attention to the room and slowly scanned its contents. Besides the rotted and rusting furniture, there wasn't much to see, just a small duffel bag and a laptop left on the dresser, the screen open but powered off. He turned it on and waited while it booted up and rooted through the bag to see if there was anything of interest.

He found an assortment of clothing, an account ledger and a booklet of music disks. He flipped through them, but nothing stood out as helpful. The ledger was gibberish but maybe later he could try and make sense of it.

Cid's lap top was not password protected and it had a satellite link. He scrolled through recently visited files one at a time until he found a folder of photos. When he opened it, he swore under his breath as dozens of thumbnails of Squall in the most sorry state of his life filled the screen. He clicked on one and regretted it. Even in the photo's poor light, he could count every one of Squall's ribs and see the vacant look in his eye.

Sickened, he closed the file and looked through Cid's online search history. It only went back two weeks, and there wasn't much. The only thing that stood out was a search on a string of bank robberies in Galbadia, a weather forecast site, and an import/export company based in Dollet called TBI.

Thalia Blackheart Industries, maybe?

If she could afford to lend out millions and potentially had her own company, that money had to come from somewhere.

How perfect her ability would be for large scale theft, bank robbery. No one would be able to identify the suspect. If she wanted people to see a team of G-Army soldiers wearing unicorn helmets, she could.

Whether knowingly or not, Cid left a trail of bread crumbs to follow, and as pissed as Seifer was that the man had blown his mind out rather than own his fuck-up, he was glad for something to follow up on.

Seifer opened e-mail and messaged himself the link to the bank robbery story from Cid's account so he could read over it later, scrolled through Cid's inbox, then his outbox to see if there was anything else of use.

"What the hell?" he murmured as he saw the last three messages in the outbox had been sent to Rinoa's e-mail, _rhleonhart_ at _balambmail_. "Cid, what the hell did you do?"

He opened the first, saw no text but the subject line, SQUALL, and an attachment. He suspected he knew what Cid had sent her and his gut clenched at the thought of Rinoa having to look at those photos.

Any hope of something else was lost when he clicked the attachment and an image of a dead-eyed and battered Squall filled the screen. The tip of his pinky finger was clearly missing and long healed.

The date embedded in the corner was from April.

"Why?" he demanded and turned back to the dead man on the bed. "Why the fuck would you do that to her?"

Cid, of course, didn't answer.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A good half of this chapter is new content that I probably won't make available in the original version. At least, not until I've completed the story here. As of this chapter, content doesn't line up between the two versions because I wound up needing to cut this one in half due to the length. 
> 
> I really miss writing fic, y'all. I miss it a lot. And it's been a struggle to find time to work on anything. I have a couple of updates for other things in progress, and a couple of short stories in the works, but it's been a slow process. Nothing is finished enough to post yet but maybe soon, once work slows down after the first of the year. 
> 
> There will be a second story set in this universe in the future, but I won't post it until the rewrite is finished. 
> 
> And thank you to everybody who left comments or gave this story kudos. I really, really, really appreciate you!

 

Time passed almost too quickly. Before Rinoa knew it, Squall had been gone a whole year.

On the anniversary of his funeral, she found herself alone beside his grave in the SeeD cemetery, his necklace clenched in her fist. A brisk wind whipped her hair around her head and tugged the skirt of her sun dress around her legs as she sank to the ground to stare at the headstone with his name etched into it.

The SeeD cemetery was less manicured than Rinoa remembered. The grass grew tall beyond the path and debris collected along the iron gate to the east. With Balamb Garden’s budget problems, maintenance on the grounds was suspended and it showed. A few of the memorial stones had been vandalized with spray paint. Glass bottles glittered in the weeds.

Rinoa cleared away handfuls of grass grown up against Squall's headstone and cast it aside with a heavy heart. Already, he'd been forgotten. 

It was the first time she could bring herself to visit, and she was only there because she didn't know how else to acknowledge that he was really and truly gone. Nothing else so far had worked.

She might as well have gone to the beach. Being here didn't bring comfort, and though his body lay in the ground below, he wasn't really here. Wherever he was, it wasn't here.

"You once made me promise I wouldn't leave you," she said to the headstone. "You didn't keep your end of the bargain."

The breeze rustled the tall grass at the edges of the grave and a paper cup tumbled past to lodge itself against a nearby headstone.

"I'm so mad at you for leaving me," she said, "and I miss you so much."

Was there any point in being here? She was just torturing herself, talking to someone who couldn't answer back, but she couldn't just sit there and say nothing.

"Ella misses you," she said. "You'd be so proud of her, Squall. She's gotten so tall, and she's so smart. Zell's teaching her karate." Rinoa paused to laugh at the Ella's lack of coordination. "She didn't inherit your grace, but she's got your determination. Doesn't give up for anything."

The breeze blew her hair into her face, and she untangled it and tucked as much of it behind her ears as she could.

"And Ari," she said. "He got my dad’s curls, if you can believe it, but I think he looks a little like Laguna. I wish you'd gotten the chance to meet him. He's so sweet, and he's quiet like you."

Tears spilled down her cheeks and fogged her sunglasses. She wiped them away.

"I wish I could say I'm doing okay without you," she whispered, "but the truth is... I'm struggling. You left this big hole right through the middle of me." Her voice broke and she closed he eyes, squeezed the tears from them and took the sunglasses off. "I'm not like you. I can't do it all on my own. I've never been helpless, but... God, Squall. Why? Why did you have to leave me?"

Rinoa thought coming here would bring some kind of closure, but it didn't. For several minutes, she sat there crying quietly, bitterly. There was nothing else to say. She was tired of being heartbroken, tired of missing him, tired of waking up thinking he was still alive, only to confront the empty side of the bed and be forced to remember he wasn't ever coming home.

"I came to say goodbye," she said. "For real this time. I love you, but... you're not here anymore."

She slid the platinum wedding band off her finger and looked at it in the sunlight, at the way the etching inside gleamed.

 _I Promise_.

As she stood, she unclasped her necklace and slid the ring onto it. When she got home, she would put it away in the jewelry box alongside his.

She turned away from the grave and swore she would never come back. Cemeteries were for the living, but there was no comfort to be found in them. With once last glance over her shoulder, Rinoa closed the gate behind her and walked the short path back to her car.

* * *

The Estharian women’s prison could have been a school if not for the lack of landscaping, the three layers of razor wire surrounding the building and the miles and miles of desolate desert stretching out to infinity in all directions.

Ellone wiped her brow and glanced at the women in the yard. Small groups of them walked an oval track under the hot sun, each one dressed in an obnoxious shade of lime green that stood out against the red sand and rocks. None of them moved with purpose, but they all watched Seifer and Ellone approach. One or two offered half-hearted cat-calls, a few yelled suggestive comments, and Ellone was unsure if they were meant for Seifer, or for her.

It took some wrangling to get clearance to come here, even with Laguna’s assistance. These prisoners were closely guarded, difficult and extremely dangerous. From what Ellone understood, this place was half an asylum, half a prison and intended for only the most wicked and notorious prisoners.

The woman they sought resided in the maximum security wing, a place where she was kept separated from the general population. They were told she presented not only a danger to others, but also to herself. She kept to herself and whispered her prayers all day long inside a four-by-four cell, but could be come violent if agitated.

Lucinda Black claimed to have seen demons the day she stabbed her husband to death, demons conjured by her only daughter, a child she believed possessed by evil spirits. Since then, she’d seen demons in others. Demons in the walls. In her reflection in the mirror. In other prisoners and prison staff. Her therapists.

It had taken months to get clearance to come here. And an additional few weeks to get permission to visit Mrs. Black specifically. In the time spent waiting, Ellone had familiarized herself with the file, reading it and re-reading it until she practically had it memorized. She knew every detail of the case, including the extent of the abuse Thalia suffered at her parents hands.

A dozen untreated broken bones. Repeated lashings, starvation, ice baths, violent beatings, molten steel rods applied to the soles of her tender feet. All because they didn’t understand their child’s gifts.

If there was ever anything kind or loving in Thalia Blackheart, her parents had tortured it out of her.

Ellone shivered beneath the desert sun and ignored the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She hurried to catch up with Seifer, who seemed to have forgotten her in his haste to check in. He didn’t even acknowledge the ladies in the yard or their lurid comments, his mind elsewhere.

Inside, they showed their identification and received the customary pat down by a pair of stone-faced prison guards. Seifer, it seemed, was having a worse time with it than she was.

“Digging for gold down there, or what?” he snapped at the guard. “I don’t got a shank hiding between my balls, alright?”

Ellone forced herself not to crack a smile. Seifer was in no mood to be laughed at.

The guard ceased his unusually thorough exploration of Seifer’s nethers and nodded at the secured gate a few paces away.

“Let ‘em pass.”

Seifer sneered at no one in particular and stalked toward the door. Ellone followed but kept her distance.

She didn’t fear him so much as she feared his state of mind. Being here reminded him of the days before Laguna pardoned him. He didn’t need to say it for her to know. She could read it in his posture and hear it in his silence.

Seifer never did like being confined. She remembered him as a toddler, small and angry and flushed red from head to toe, wailing to be let out of his crib and banging his tiny, fat hands against the wooden rail.

On the other side of the gate, the Warden waited. Ellone introduced herself, then Seifer. Seifer did little more than nod, his shoulders tense and his face a stony mask.

“It’s been a long time since anyone has come to visit Mrs. Black,” the Warden said. “Besides lawyers, that is. She doesn’t have any family besides the girl they found in that shed, and no one blames her for never coming.”

"Her daughter has never visited?" Ellone asked.  "Not once?"

"Would you?" 

"No," Ellone said.  "I suppose I wouldn't."

“Normally, we don’t allow visitors that aren’t on an inmate’s list of approved contacts,” the Warden said, fishing for details. “We made an exception for you.”

“I know, and I appreciate the favor,” Ellone said. “We shouldn’t be long. We just have a few questions.”

“Might I ask the nature of your visit with her?”

“Classified,” Seifer said. “Didn’t you read the fuckin’ paperwork?”

He was spoiling for a fight and it showed. Ellone laid her hand against his arm and applied enough pressure to signal that he was misbehaving without cause. Beneath her palm, his muscles were tense and hard.

Seifer had to know that whatever was said would be heard and likely recorded. They weren’t Lucinda Black’s lawyers, and there were no confidentiality guarantees for anyone but her lawyers. What they needed to ask would not be considered particularly alarming to anyone who might be listening.

“We have some questions about her daughter,” Ellone said. “We’re investigating an international matter on behalf of President Loire. She may be able to help us track her down, or at the very least, determine how involved she may be in the situation.”

Seifer cut his eyes at her but Ellone ignored his dark look.

“I understand,” the Warden said. “But I feel I should prepare you before you visit with her. She’s not lucid most days. Whatever it is that you hope to find here, I wouldn’t expect much if I were you. At least, not anything that makes sense.”

“It’s worth it to try,” Ellone said.

“Of course. This way.”

Ellone followed the warden, Seifer close behind her. She could sense his annoyance with her, but he never quite grasped that it was often easier to get information by disclosing a small detail or two than it was to stonewall those in a position to help. Now that the Warden felt like he’d been given privileged information, he’d be more likely to give some of his own.

“Does Mrs. Black ever talk about her?” Ellone asked. “Her daughter?”

“Not often, and when she does it’s all madness about demons and evil and sin,” he said. He sighed. “That poor child… Imagine, growing up with someone like that as a parent.”

This was something Ellone thought about a thousand times in her downtime. How terrifying and awful it must have been to be punished and tortured for something beyond her control. Ellone was no stranger to suffering because of what she was, but the kind of suffering Thalia endured as a girl was beyond her imagining.

“It must have been awful,” she said.

“As I said, it’s unlikely Mrs. Black will cooperate with you,” the Warden said. “But, you’re welcome to try.”

The Warden took them to a sterile room painted a soft green and sparsely furnished. In the center of the room, Lucinda Black sat at a table, her wrists cuffed to an o-ring in the center. Ellone froze and thought of Squall, bound, chained, trapped. Dying slowly and painfully. Waiting for help that never came.

“Elle, move it,” Seifer snapped.

Ellone stepped into the room and claimed the chair on the right. Seifer took the only other available seat on her left and stared at the Warden until he bowed and closed the door behind him.

She observed the woman across the table from her and saw no threat, just a frail, dull-eyed prisoner. Pale and stringy strands of hair stuck to her forehead and fell across cheeks that bore the scars of repeated self-inflicted scratches. Her fingers touched the cuffs on her wrists, circling around the metal with no real intent and plucked anxiously at the chains.

“Mrs. Black, my name is Ellone. We have some questions about your daughter, Thalia.”

Lucinda Black didn’t react to her daughter’s name. Her empty eyes fell on Seifer, found nothing interesting and returned her gaze to the table.

“Can you tell us about her?” Ellone asked.

Her fingers moved faster, more insistently around the cuffs. Her breathing quickened.

“Anything at all might help us,” Ellone said. “It’s important. Please.”

“Bad seed,” Mrs. Black said in a dry, husky voice. “Evil from the start. It wasn't even her fault."

Ellone shot a glance at Seifer, but he wore the same stony expression as before.

“Tell us about that,” Ellone said. “About the evil.”

“Possessed, just like my sister. The evil took her from me, my baby, my poor sweet baby...”

Seifer’s face showed more interest now and he shifted forward in his seat.

“What do you mean, like your sister?” he asked.

“Evil lived in her soul, dark, consuming evil.  She could make daylight turn to blackest night, make flowers boom and die right before your eyes,” Mrs. Black said, almost breathlessly. “We prayed for her. Night and day we prayed, to cast the demon out. To force it from her soul. We prayed and prayed but only death saved her. Only death, only death, it’s the only way. Only death.”

Seifer muttered something under his breath but Ellone didn’t catch it.

“What sort of evil?” she asked.

“Hyne gave us the evil. Hyne. He gave us Sorceresses and devils, witches and demons that walk among us.”

Lucinda Black lifted her face. Her once-dull eyes turned bright with madness.

“He gave us poisonous, degraded magic that twists the soul and passes on, just like sorcery, to the next, and the next, and the next and there’s no escape. It just goes on, and on, and on, poisoning soul after soul for all eternity.”

Ellone let that sink in. The idea that “gifts” were passed on in the same vein as sorcery was new to her. She knew of no evidence this was possible. There was no research she’d ever read that hinted these unusual magics were some form of crippled sorcery that could be inherited from another. No one knew where it came from.

Chi magic, like Seifer's, ran in families.  That was known. Time magic, dream magic, the quiet, natural healing magic, those things were randomly bestowed. There was nothing that suggested otherwise.

“Bullshit,” Seifer muttered.

“The day my sister’s soul was free, the demons stole my child from me. They _took_ her. And the nightmares, the nightmares… awful, awful, nightmares. And we prayed and we prayed and we tried to cast it out and free her but the demon, the demon, it took her, it took her and she made the spiders and the devils come, so many spiders and insects and terrible, things, so many, so many, on the walls and the bed and the floor, all evil, so _much_ evil."

Her hands twisted the cuffs around her wrists and she began to rock back and forth, panting and whimpering like a young child.

“You starved a kid because you thought she was possessed by demons,” Seifer said. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

It was Ellone’s turn to cut her eyes at him. She appreciated his outrage, but not his delivery.

“We had to,” Mrs. Black said. Her eyes filled with tears. “You don’t understand. It was the only way. The only way. The only way to make it _leave_!”

“You beat and starved a kid,” Seifer said. “There’s no excuse in the world for that.”

“She wasn’t a child, she was a monster, a monster, and oh god, the demon stole her from me, my only child, I had no choice… I just wanted to save her.”

Lucinda Black dissolved into repetitious rambling, _monster, demon, evil,_ and tugged at the cuffs around her wrists, harder and harder, crying out with each pull. The chains rattled against the table.

“Elle, we’re not getting anything useful out of this nutbag,” Seifer said. “Let’s go.”

Blood dripped onto the table as the intensity of Mrs. Black’s agitation grew. The cuffs had cut her, and still she continued to twist them against her wrists, digging deeper and deeper with every turn.

Again, Ellone thought of Squall.

“Elle, let’s get the hell out of here. She doesn’t know anything.”

Mrs. Black shot to her feet and lunged across the table, as far as the restraints would allow her. Her wild eyes turned on Ellone and her mouth twisted to reveal ugly, crooked and yellowed teeth.

“Demon!” she shouted, spit flying from her lips. “How dare you come here devil! I cast you out! I curse you! I curse you, witch! The demon has taken hold of you! You must be purged of the poison! You must cast the evil out of your soul, witch!”

Ellone, stunned at the venom directed at her, stood frozen in shock.

_Witch._

She’d been called that a thousand times over the years by those who didn’t understand, and it cut deep, even when it came from a mad zealot who tortured her own child and believed magic was the work of demons.

Seifer’s hand clamped down on her shoulder. He leaned down, his lips close to her ear.

“Forget it, El.”

Ellone allowed Seifer to lead her from the room, Lucinda Black shouting her curses and slanders in their wake.

_Monster, witch, demon._

She moved like a sleepwalker. She didn’t hear a word Seifer said, not to her and not to the Warden. Not until they reached the car and she was sitting in the passenger seat did the daze finally wear off.

Seifer watched her warily from the driver’s side, the engine idling.

“Don’t take any of that bullshit she said to heart.”

Ellone only nodded and looked to the desert beyond the parking lot. Seifer reached for her hand. It was warm against hers, rough and calloused, but comforting.

He let go after a few seconds, heaved a sigh, and backed out of the parking space. It was a while before Ellone found her voice again. Seifer turned on the radio to a news program that Ellone immediately tuned out.

All she could think about was that sad, deluded woman and the child that suffered at her hands.

“Do you think there’s any truth to what she said?” she finally asked, after nearly an hour on the road.

“I think she believed what she was saying,” Seifer said, “but no. I think she’s a raving lunatic.”

“I meant the part about gifts being passed on the same way that sorcery is passed on.”

“Never heard of that happening,” he said. “Have you?”

“No,” she said. “Never. But I don’t know if anyone’s ever studied it, either.”

“Does it matter?”

“I don’t know,” Ellone said. “Maybe it does. Maybe there’s something to it.”

“She’s a crackpot.”

“But what if she’s right? What if what I can do is a crippled, degraded form of sorcery instead of some random thing? What if it was passed on somehow instead of just being luck of the draw?”

“So what?” Seifer asked. “Doesn’t change anything. Doesn’t make it go away or help us find Squall.”

He was right. Knowing where her own particular curse came from wouldn’t change a thing. And knowing that Thalia might have inherited her gift through her aunt didn’t change the game or give any insight into their end goal, which was finding Squall.

Still, Ellone’s curiosity was piqued. She was hungry for understanding. Understanding might lead to making peace with herself, even if it didn’t help find Squall.

“I do know one thing,” Seifer said.

He reached across the center console and gripped her hand again.

Funny, how when physical contact was on his own terms, he was okay with touching her.

“What’s that?” Ellone asked.

“You’re not a demon.”

His thumb brushed over the back of her hand and Ellone steeled herself against a sharp longing for physical companionship. It had been ages since anyone showed her affection without strings attached. It had been ages since she let anyone in.

Loneliness was her lifelong companion, by choice in more recent times. She’d tried to settle down and make a home, first in Winhill and then in Esthar, put down roots, but she’d spent her whole life on the move. A lifetime spent moving from place to place didn’t foster deep, meaningful relationships. A life spent losing those she cared about didn’t encourage close friendships. And her gift was difficult for most to understand. No one truly grasped how deeply it alienated her from the rest of the world.

Seifer was the least responsible or rational choice to fill that void. His friendship was complicated. He demanded complete loyalty and undivided attention for all eternity. Ellone could offer him neither long term.

Their current entanglement would come to an end, sooner or later, and they would go their separate ways, fall out of touch, and in time would be distant acquaintances at best. Better to keep her distance. Better to protect herself, and him.

His fingers tightened around hers, as if he knew what was going on inside her head. He probably thought he did.

“Both hands on the wheel, sir,” she said. “I’d like to get back to Esthar alive, thanks.”

Seifer withdrew but she caught his smirk as he placed his hands at ten and two.

“You’re safer with me than anyone else on the planet, El,” he said. “I'm a great driver."

She glanced at the speedometer. Thirty miles over the limit. 

“Maybe I should drive.”

“Do you know how?”

“No.”

“Seriously? You’ve never driven a car.”

“There are no paved roads on the ocean,” she said. “I know how to sail, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep.”

“I’ll be damned,” he said, teasing. “Who woulda thought?”

“You’re surprised?”

He pulled the car onto the side of the road and switched the engine off.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Get out.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not gonna let you go another day without knowing how to drive,” he said. “Now get your ass out of the car. I’m gonna teach you.”

Ellone hid a smile at the earnestness of his tone and climbed out into the blistering hot desert air. He tossed her the keys over the roof of the car. She caught them, saluted, and got into the driver’s seat for the first time in her life.

 

* * *

  
  


Now that Zell spent most of his days at the Garage, Ma took it upon herself to bring him lunch every afternoon, as if he was still 12 and she was still responsible for feeding him. Like clockwork, every day around 1:30, she would show up with a plate of sandwiches or fried fish or pasta or some other delicious but greasy fare. Every single day, rain or shine, without fail.

“Ma, you don’t gotta do this every day,” Zell said, even as he shoveled in a mouthful of potato salad, “I’m a grown man. I can feed myself.”

“And I’m an old lady with nothing better to do,” she said.

“You should get a hobby,” he said. “Or a cat.”

“Cooking is my hobby, and I’m allergic to cats.”

“I’m gaining weight.”

“Good,” she said. “You’ve always been too skinny.”

There was no sense in arguing with her. He was muscular, not skinny, and she was determined to give him premature heart disease with all this fried stuff. He liked fried stuff and junk food, but he also ate it in moderation, now that he wasn’t a seventeen-year-old soldier who trained 6 hours a day and needed every single calorie he could stuff into his face to maintain a healthy weight.

Those days were behind him. He was an adult who cared about his health, and he had no plans to drop dead of a heart attack by the time he turned 40. Ma apparently had other plans for him.

He couldn’t say no to her daily offerings. No one in their right mind would say _no_ to anything Ma Dincht cooked in her tiny kitchen. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings and he really didn’t mind her daily visits, he just worried that she was feeding him straight into an early grave.

He bought her a healthy cookbook, one with alternatives to frying everything in butter or lard. She thanked him and continued frying chicken and potatoes and making pies and pastries full of sugar and fat. He suggested they both go on a diet together. Make an effort to eat cleaner and healthier. She answered him with a pair of huge cinnamon buns with about a pound of cream cheese frosting on top.

She made treats for the kids too. Cupcakes iced in pink with sprinkles on top. Chocolate chip cookies. Strawberry shortcake. At least twice a week, she would send him home with a plate of goodies, which he would hide in the garage until the kids went to bed.

“Your Ma needs a hobby,” Rinoa said, when Zell came home with yet another mountain of ginger snaps. “Or a friend.”

“That's what I said.  But, you know, she already has friends," he said.  "For all the good that does."

“You know what I mean,” she said and took a bite of gingersnap. She chewed it thoughtfully. “I have an idea.”

“If you're about to suggest she move in with us, the answer is _no_. My waistline can’t take it.”

“Mine either,” Rinoa smiled and pinched her own stomach. “No, I was thinking maybe… she could sell her baked goods at the bookstore. It might keep her so busy, she won’t have time to fatten you up.”

“That...” Zell began. “That is a _great_ idea, Rin."

“What would you do without me?”

It was a fantastic plan. Zell felt good about it. Everyone got what they wanted, everyone was happy.

Zell planned to broach the subject the next afternoon when Ma appeared with whatever obesity-inducing meal she’d whipped up that day, and he anticipated 1:30 with a little bit of excitement instead of dread.

But lunch came and went, and Ma did not appear.

Had he said something the day before to offend her? Had he hurt her feelings and silence was his punishment? It wouldn't be the first time he said something thoughtless without realizing it. 

For the rest of the afternoon, he wracked his brain for anything he might have said or done to upset her, something that would cause her to give him the silent treatment, but nothing came to mind. He’d eaten the mashed potatoes and the butter and bacon soaked green beans and the fried pork cutlet without complaint. He’d accepted the plate of ginger snaps for the kids with his customary thanks and a kiss on the cheek.

Worried, he closed up a little early and walked down to the house. He knocked and got no answer, so he pushed the front door open a little and caught a whiff something burning.

A knot of dread formed in the pit of his stomach.

“Ma?”

The kitchen light was off, but a bit of smoke billowed from a simmering soup pot on the stove. He turned it off and lifted the pot from the burner, afraid Ma had gone out and forgot to turn whatever she was cooking. Not that she’d ever done that before, but she was getting older. Maybe her memory was going.

“Ma! You home?”

The only sound was the tick of the second hand on the clock above the sink.

He was about to leave when he noticed her handbag and her coat hanging on the hat rack beside the door. She wouldn’t have left the house without either. If she had, one of the neighbors would have called him immediately out of concern.

It was December. It was chilly out.

Zell started to sweat. That ball of dread grew larger and his mouth filled with saliva.

“Ma?”

He ventured further into the house, into the back room that had become a place for junk in the years since his Pa died, the small bathroom below the stairs, then into her bedroom.

His heart stopped the second he stepped inside. Like someone had punched him right in the chest and shards of rib bone pierced the muscle, ending his life in an instant.

Then, his heartbeat began to thunder in his ears, racing faster and faster as it dawned on him, Ma was gone.

There was no question he’d come too late. He’d seen enough death in his time to know what it looked like. And still, he felt for a pulse, her skin icy cold and rubbery beneath his fingertips. 

His legs grew weak and he stumbled to the wall beside the vanity, slid down and sat cross-legged on the floor. All he could do was look at her, sprawled on the carpet beside the bed in her favorite house dress. Her eyes were open and they stared emptily at some point far beyond the striped wallpaper that she’d always hated.

Wallpaper he promised to replace with something she liked and never did.

He didn’t remember calling anyone, but he must have. Rinoa burst into the room and slipped to her knees on the floor beside him. There were tears on her cheeks when she folded him up in her arms like he was a kid who skinned up his knee.

Just like Ma used to.

“I called emergency services,” she said. “They’re on the way.”

“Okay,” he said dully. "That's good."

“I’m so sorry, Zell,” she said.

Only then did Zell break down, his body shaking with silent, painful sobs. Those sobs grew in force until ugly, tortured sounds came out of him. Rinoa only held tighter, knowing grief as she did, and said nothing.

Zell was glad for that. There were no words that would ease his pain, nothing she could say that would undercut the sting of not getting here in time, and she understood how much it hurt.

He bawled until emergency services arrived. In a daze, he explained what he walked in on. He stayed while they loaded Ma’s body onto a gurney and followed them out, Rinoa at his side.

When the ambulance pulled away, without the lights on, he broke down again.

“What am I gonna do without her?” Zell bawled.

“You know I don’t know how to answer that question,” Rinoa said. “You carry on, I guess. It’s the only thing you can do, you know?”

Zell sniffled and wiped his eyes. That seemed impossible at the moment. A huge part of his life was just… gone.

“Can I drive you to the hospital?” she asked. “Or get you some water?”

He would need to go to the hospital soon. There were forms to be filled out, and then there was the matter of finding out how she died, though that information could take weeks and he suspected he already knew.

“Water would be good,” he said.

She took him by the hand, leading him back inside like he was a child and filled a glass with ice and water from the tap. He drank it down, surprised by his ravenous thirst. The water tasted sweet, as if she’d added a tablespoon of sugar. When it was empty, he refilled it and drank that, too.

He dumped the remaining ice in the sink, rinsed out the glass, and set it in the dish rack to dry. All around him, his mother’s favorite things stood out, reminding him that this was real.

Old, ugly salt and pepper shakers on a display shelf. Dozens of them. Mass-produced and shoddily painted, made of cheap ceramic or plastic. A collection she'd amassed over the years be cause she liked them.

There was the dog and fire hydrant he’d thought was hilarious as a boy. And the pair of huge-eyed owls painted brown and green. A cow and chicken set. The moomba and moogle pair he’d found at a junk shop in Dollet.

And the silly fridge magnets from places he’d visited, from long-closed local businesses, the faded alphabet letters from his childhood.

The spatulas and mixing spoons, the spice rack, the ancient stove and matching fridge.

Zell couldn’t take it.

He pushed past Rinoa and out the front door, to the sidewalk where he covered his face with his hands and screamed.

* * *

It was Rinoa’s turn to lend Zell a hand, a task she took on without question or hesitation. She’d loved Ma Dincht, who had long ago appointed herself the team mom for their ragtag band mercenaries and rebels and misfits, and her unexpected death weighed heavy on her shoulders.

Maybe, if Zell hadn’t spent most of his time looking after her, Ma might still be alive. If he was still at home, maybe he would have seen the signs. Rinoa couldn’t help but feel a little responsible.

Helping make the funeral arrangements distracted her from her own grief for a while. She called the florist and the funeral home, proof-read the announcement, and helped him pack and sort through his Ma’s things.

“What are you going to do with the house?” she asked as she taped a box of dusty nic-nacs shut.

“Dunno yet,” he said. “Fix it up, I guess. Maybe sell it or rent it out.”

She understood why he wouldn’t want to live in it without Ma there. It was different than her situation. This house _was_ Ma Dincht. Rinoa's own home was filled with memories of Squall, but it was also full of memories of her children and her friends and her family. It was harder to walk away from that.

“I wouldn’t sell it yet,” she said. “I wouldn’t want you to regret it later."

He nodded and chucked a bundle of ancient wires into a trash bag.

“Did I tell you I got the cause of death yesterday?”

Rinoa set aside the roll of tape and waited. Tears welled up in his eyes and he wiped them away.

“Massive heart attack,” he said. “Advanced heart disease. The medical examiner said even if I was there when it happened, I wouldn’t have been able to do anything to save her.”

“Does that make you feel better or worse?”

“I don’t know yet,” he said and sat back on his heels. He picked up a broken ceramic clown, then tossed it in the trash bag. “I mean, I’ve been telling her for years she’s gotta take care of herself, but I dunno, she just ate what she wanted and never exercised and I couldn’t make her. I wish she would’a listened...”

Rinoa wished there was something she could do or say to ease his pain, but she knew from experience, there were no magic words that made everything better.

“You know what’s weird?” he said. “I was kinda mad at her after I found out I was adopted. For a lot longer than I let on."

“Because she never told you?”

He nodded.

“I don’t think that’s weird.”

“I should have been more grateful,” he said. He crumpled a wad of junk mail in his fist. “What kind of asshole gets mad at someone who was nice enough to take in a bratty, loud kid like me and treat him like he was her own?”

“But you weren’t mad because you were adopted, right?” she said. “It was because you thought they lied about it.”

“Yeah,” he said. “They never really lied about it, though. I just forgot, I guess."

"Junctioning will do that."

"I don't think it was that," he said.  "I forgot because I wanted to.  "I wanted it to be real."

"It was real," she promised. 

Rinoa sighed and scooted over to his side. She laid an arm around his shoulders and gave him a gentle shake.

“You’re looking for reasons to blame yourself,” she said. “She didn’t die because you were mad at her when you were seventeen, and she didn’t die because you were a loud, bratty kid. She loved you, Zell. Let that be what you remember, not whatever mistakes you think you made.”

Zell bowed his head into his knees, and his shoulders rose and fell with slow, deep breaths beneath her arm.

“This sucks so much.”

“I know,” she said.

She still missed Squall deeply. She would always miss him, and the old proverb that time healed all wounds had, as of yet, proved untrue. Even if she’d stopped waiting for him to come home and she no longer expected him to be there when she woke up in the morning, her melancholy never truly lifted. Her longing never stopped.

Saying goodbye proved much harder than going to Squall’s grave and packing up his things. It still felt like he was out there somewhere, and no matter how hard she tried, Rinoa couldn’t shake that feeling. Sometimes, it was a comfort to know a part of him must still exist, and other times a terrible, festering wound.

Zell wasn’t in much better shape. As winter melted into spring, he too seemed gripped by melancholy. He started having nightmares, after which he'd go down to the garage and work on some project he brought home until sunrise.  

Unlike Rinoa, he visited Ma’s grave every Tuesday afternoon, armed with flowers and a cup of coffee he ordered from the bookstore for the walk to the cemetery. He always returned in a somber mood afterward.

He became obsessed with health food and exercise.  He gave up hot dogs and sodas and sweets.  His only indulgence was Saturday morning breakfast, when he'd make pancakes and bacon for Rinoa and thr kids. 

It seemed Zell had lost part of himself after Ma passed. He was still the fun, enthusiastic uncle with the kids, but the rest of the time he was quiet and too still. In the evenings, after the kids were put to bed, they would sit on the back porch in silence, listening to the singing of tree frogs and crickets. Sharing their grief without words.

Neither seemed able to move on. 

Rinoa put all the pictures of Squall away and packed up his leather jacket. Every now and then, she took it out of its box and held it in her arms and let herself be drawn in by the lingering scent of gunpowder and oil. After all these years, the fur collar remained soft and unmarred by all the battles it had seen. The same could not be said for the leather. Scars from blades and wear told of its history and the man who once wore it.

Eventually, she stopped. There was no sense in holding on to what was lost.

  
  


* * *

  
  


They celebrated Ella's seventh birthday with a trip to a newly opened theme park in Esthar, courtesy of Laguna. They spent the day going from ride to ride as Laguna indulged Ella's every whim. He "won" her a giant stuffed Moomba by paying off the booth attendant and filled her belly full of cotton candy, sugary drinks, and hot dogs.

Selphie tagged along like she was Laguna's shadow while Zell and Rinoa hung back and watched Ella enjoy her day.

"She's getting so big," Zell observed as Ella hung from Laguna's arm. “I think she’s shot up, like, three inches in a month.”

"Scary how fast they grow up," Rinoa said and glanced down at Ari in his stroller.

At nine months old, he was an active but quiet kid and exceptionally observant for his age. He watched the world around him with serious, dark eyes that were too old for his face. Rinoa saw both Squall and Laguna in her son, and little of herself except for his eyes.

"Little dude, you gotta stop growing, too," Zell said. "Your Uncle Zell can't keep up."

"In no time, he'll be taller than you," Rinoa said.

"Hey!" Zell cried and elbowed her. "Low blow."

"Pun intended?"

"You're one to talk, shorty."

"I'm petite, thank you."

"Petite is another word for short."

"You are not petite by any stretch of the imagination," Rinoa said.

Zell grinned and leaned down over Ari, who babbled happily at his favorite uncle.

"Tell your mommy she's a mean, mean, meanie."

"Mamamamamaa," Ari agreed.

"See?" Zell said with a smirk. "Little dude says so."

"He clearly said Mom," Rinoa said.

Their good-natured teasing continued the rest of the day, and Rinoa had hope that Zell wasn’t totally lost. This trip seemed to have snapped him out of his funk a little. He smiled more. He laughed and indulged Ella’s daredevil side on roller coasters and log rides.

By the time they returned to the Palace, Rinoa was worn out, Ella was sound asleep on the couch and Laguna sported a funny sunglasses-shaped sunburn that Rinoa couldn't help but laugh at.

"Thanks for doing this, Laguna," she said as she put Ari to bed. "Ella had a great time."

"What about you?"

"I had fun too," she said. "It's nice to get out of Balamb every now and then."

"I'm glad. This was as much for you as it was her," he said. "So, can I interest you in a glass of juice and a chat?"

"Sure," she said. “It’s been too long.”

They sat in the Palace kitchen, long after the last staff member left for the night, Laguna with his glass of grape juice, Rinoa with a glass of wine. They talked about the kids, about what Laguna was up to and the general state of affairs in Esthar, but he never once mentioned Ellone and that was strange. It was Rinoa that finally brought her up.

"She calls every now and then, but she doesn't have much to say," Rinoa said. "Is something going on?"

"I have her helping Seifer with something," Laguna said. "Top secret stuff."

"Memory stuff?"

"Memory stuff," Laguna confirmed.

That explained a lot, but Rinoa missed her visits.

"I can't imagine the two of them working together," Rinoa said. "Or actually getting along."

""I think there might be a little romance brewing."

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Rinoa laughed, but this news was a surprise. 

“Seriously?”

“Maybe,” Laguna said. “I don’t ask questions. Something's happening, though."

Seifer had his good points. If someone mattered to him, he was fiercely loyal. If he cared enough, he would move heaven and hell, kill and destroy for that person. He could even be kind, when the mood struck him. She’d seen first-hand how sweet he could be with his friends, and with her.

He could also be grating, obnoxious and overbearing on a good day, but Rinoa had liked him a great deal in spite of it.

And Ellone, she was feisty in her own way. Seifer loved a challenge, and Ellone was sure to offer him one.

But it was hard to picture the two of them romantically involved.

"How do you feel about that?" Rinoa wondered. “The two of them together?”

"Weird," Laguna said and shrugged. "I worry, but Elle doesn't put up with his crap, and Seifer seems to trust her... I just want them to be happy.”

Seifer didn’t give his trust easily. If Seifer trusted Ellone, she’d earned that trust, and Rinoa wondered what it was they were involved in that had allowed them to develop that kind of relationship.

“I'd like to think they'd be good for one another. As strange as that sounds."

It didn't sound strange at all, but his easy acceptance of the idea was a surprise. If Squall were alive, Rinoa doubted he'd be as open to it. 

"Soooo," Laguna drawled and poured Rinoa more wine. "Speaking of romance, what's this I see stewing between you and Zell?"

Rinoa blinked at him in surprise. There was no romance to speak of, though from time to time Rinoa couldn't help but wonder what it was that kept Zell from leaving or jumping back into the dating pool.

"He seems pretty taken with you and the kids," Laguna said.

"We're just friends," Rinoa said. "Really close friends."

"Have you considered dating?" Laguna asked. 

"Zell?  No. It's not like that," Rinoa said.

It felt like a lie and she wasn't totally sure it wasn't. 

That realization cut deep.  What, exactly, were they doing? 

"Are you sure it isn't like that for him?" Laguna asked. "Because if I didn't know better -"

"It isn't," Rinoa lied. "Really."

Laguna was skeptical. If she wasn’t mistaken, he looked a little troubled, too.

"Well, you could do worse," he said. "Zell's a nice kid. He seems to really care about you."

"Because we're friends and we've been through a lot together," she said. "Kinda like you and Kiros and Ward."

He seemed to accept that answer and patted her hand.

"Whenever you're ready to move on, Rin," Laguna said. "I'll support you. Just make sure to pick someone who treats you right and loves the kids. That's all I ask."

"I'm nowhere close to moving on," she said. “I’m not even sure if I’ll ever be.”

* * *

A thousand miles away, the last of Squall's hope of going home crumbled.  He was so very tired of hanging on, fighting to stay alive when there was nothing to go home to anymore.  

The photographs had been the final straw.  Six of them, taken at an amusement park.  Sunny skies, the smiling faces of his wife, his father, his daughter.

Zell.  

And a child he'd never laid eyes on before.  A little boy with her father's curls and her eyes, and no trace of himself anywhere.

It was all too clear, she'd moved on.  With Zell's arm thrown casually yet possessively around her shoulders, Rinoa looked happy.  Content.  

At peace.  

So be it.

It was foolish of him to hope she would wait.  And he always said, if something ever happened to him, he wanted her to move on.  It was unfair to expect her to pine for him for the rest of her life, even if his own longing was sometimes so powerful, it was a burning, torturous ache he felt all the way to the marrow of his bones.  

Squall no longer wanted to die fighting.  He'd fought quietly all this time, struggling with all his might to stay alive, and he was tired.  Now he wanted to go in his sleep, peacefully and without pain.  

He couldn't remember what it was like to not be in pain.  To not fight for breath.  Every time he got close enough to death that it seemed inevitable, Thalia brought him back.  

In all his years, Squall had never hated anything so much as he hated Thalia Blackheart.  

And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.  

All he could do was make peace with the loss of his family and accept his own sorry fate.  

Death was coming for him, and soon.  He could feel his organs failing.  His heart struggling. 

It wouldn't be long now. A few days.  A week at most.

And what a relief it would be, when that end finally came.


	14. Chapter 14

Zell dropped into Rinoa's office on his lunch break, his gray coveralls streaked in grease and his hair slicked back to keep it out of his eyes. Though it was September, the summer heat hadn’t yet broken and a sheen of sweat dotted his brow. He smelled like gasoline and motor oil, a scent Rinoa had gotten used to smelling on him over the last few months.  

"Hey," he greeted. "Got any plans for the weekend?"

"Nothing in particular, why?" Rinoa asked.

"Well, this dude needed some work done on his transmission, but couldn't come up with the cash," Zell said, "so he laid a few tickets to the Fall Music Fest in Dollet on me as payment. Wanna go? Selphie's already said she's in."

"Can't," Rinoa said. "Kids. But you guys go. Have fun."

"No, no, no!" Zell said. "You’re going, baby! I got it all worked out, see? Quistis said she'd watch the kids, no problem. I invited her but she says she can't stand crowds, so you have no excuse to say no."

Rinoa bit her lip and glanced at the door, where Melane stared at Zell with great interest. Zell either noticed Rinoa looking or he sensed the red-head's stare. He turned around, caught her eye, then turned back to Rinoa, blushing.

"I think she's got a crush on you," Rinoa said. She wiggled her eyebrows. “You should ask her out.”

Zell's cheeks blazed as he looked away. His posture was so aww-shucks, Rinoa had to laugh. The attraction must have been mutual if Zell was so embarrassed by her attention. He'd always been shy around girls he was interested in.

"Nah," he said. "I got enough girl trouble right now."

"Since when?"

Zell wandered further into the office and sat on a short filing cabinet.

"Remember Angie?" he asked.

"The girl from the library at Garden?"

"Yeah."

"The girl that dumped you for no good reason?" Rinoa asked.

"Yeah."

"I thought she moved to Deling City."

"Her grandfather’s sick. She came back to look after him," he said. "Anyway, she showed up at the garage a couple days ago to get her tires rotated."

"Did she now?" Rinoa said with a big grin. "Did you change her oil too?"

Zell scowled and threw his shop rag at her.

"You just opened your mouth and Irvine Kinneas came out," he said.

“Well? Did you?”

“No!”

“But you wanted to.”

“Shut up.”

Rinoa giggled and threw the rag back at him.

"Sooo? What happened?"

"Well, we started talking, you know, what I’ve been doing, what she’s been doing, all that stuff," he said, "but, I um, I kinda... wound up... asking her out."

Angie was the first girl Zell dated seriously, his first love, basically his first everything. Then one day, she broke up with him and moved to Deling City without much of an explanation, leaving Zell with a broken heart and not a clue why she left him.

"Well, I guess one date can't hurt anything, right?" Rinoa asked, but she had her doubts. "But I swear, if she hurts you again, I will remove my Odine bangle and show her what happens to people who mess with my friends."

"Don't worry," Zell said. "It's not like we're getting married or something. It's just a casual thing. I think."

Rinoa wondered if Zell still harbored feelings for Angie after all these years. Maybe, she was the reason he was so reluctant to date. Often, he mentioned his desire for family, to settle down, but his actions told a different story.

She couldn't remember the last time her friend went on more than a couple dates with the same girl.  It had been even longer since he dated anyone for more than a few months. Carrying a torch for his first love might explain it. If he'd never given up hope that they'd be reunited, then of course he wouldn't give other women much of a chance.

"Well, I hope you two have a good time," Rinoa said. "It's about time you jumped back into the pool. But there's no rule that says you can't ask Melane out, too."

"I don’t wanna double book. Women get mad about that," he said. "So anyway, back to the festival. You're in, right?"

Rinoa debated with herself about whether or not it was a good idea. On one hand, it would be a lot of fun, and it had been ages since she did anything that didn't involve work or kids. It would be nice to get away. On the other, she would pay the price when she came back. Time spent away from either usually carried with it some kind of backlash.

"Say yes," Zell said. " _Please_ say yes. Don't make me spend a weekend alone with Selphie. No good can come of that."

Rinoa chuckled. "Or very _good_ things could come of that."

"If you mean jail time after Selphie 'accidentally' blows up the fountain in the square, that's not my idea of a good time," he said. "We need a mom friend since Quistis doesn't want to go."

"I'm your choice for the mom friend?" Rinoa asked. "Wow. You know you're bad off when you expect me to be the responsible one."

"Exactly!" Zell cried. "We need you, Rin. It's for our own good."

"All right," Rinoa conceded. "Fine. I'll go. But if either of you wind up in jail, I'm not bailing you out."

* * *

The Festival featured music acts from all over the world, of all different kinds, and it was a perfect weekend for it. The weather was nice, the sky full of soft, puffy clouds, and there was just enough of a breeze to take the edge off the heat.

Selphie danced from the time they set foot on the grounds till the time she fell face first into bed, a little too drunk and slightly sunburned because she forgot to put on sunscreen. Rinoa spent her day doling out bottled water and sun block and snacks and whenever Selphie strayed into groups of strangers to spread her joy, Rinoa carefully steered her away.

It was a little like being at home, except Rinoa's children were better behaved. Her attention was divided between the music and ensuring Selphie stayed out of trouble and that Zell didn't drink too much and wind up passed out under a tree. Somehow, she really had become the mom-friend.

The second night, the three of them went out to a dance club near the hotel. Rinoa was pretty sure they were the oldest people in the room, but she let herself be coaxed into dancing, first as a trio, then just with Zell when Selphie decided to go get drinks.

Not that Selphie needed another drink, but she was so exhausting, Rinoa let her wander off unsupervised just to get a break.

When Selphie didn't come back, Rinoa worried until she spotted her friend on the bar dancing with a tall, lean man in black chaps, no shirt, and a black stetson upon his head. A cascade of strawberry blonde hair fell down his naked back. 

"Hey, Zell, is that Irvine?" Rinoa asked. "Over on the bar with Selphie?"

"Oh, geez," Zell said. "Yeah, looks like it."

"Now we're never going to get her to leave," Rinoa said.

"Eh, don't worry about her, she’ll be fine," Zell said. "At least he's keeping her occupied."

“Until they start fighting again,” Rinoa said.

“We got about a month before they start throwing shit at each other,” he said. “I think we’re good.”

They danced for a while longer, just the two of them. Now that she wasn’t obligated to hunt Selphie down every five minutes, Rinoa was having fun.

Zell was an excellent dancer who could switch between graceful ballroom moves to ballet to more popular styles without missing a beat. His years of martial arts and dance training showed in how well he understood movement, and Rinoa envied him. She had taken dance as a girl, and she wasn’t bad herself, but she would never, ever be able to move like that or with such open confidence.

Again, she wondered why a guy like him, a man with so much potential, was still single. He had so much to offer. He was kind, fun, strong, sensitive, and good looking. All the qualities Selphie considered boyfriend material.

She indulged in a couple more drinks and let Zell spin her around the dance floor under strobe lights to cheesy, bass-heavy pop music. For a while, she forgot about her never-ending grief and let loose.

And it felt _good_.

By the time they were ready to call it a night, Selphie was nowhere to be found, and neither was Irvine.

“Should we go look for her?” she asked Zell.

"She'll be fine," Zell promised. "The worst that will happen is that she stumbles into your room drunk at four in the morning, dragging a horny, drunk Irvine behind her."

Zell was right. The two might have a volatile and rocky history, but when they did get together, they only had eyes for each other until they started fighting again.

Rinoa gave the room one last sweep, in case the two were cuddled up in a corner, but she was sure they had already gone. It was likely Irvine had a room of his own or even a bachelor pad somewhere nearby. Nobody knew where Irvine was most of the time.  Dollet was as likely a place as any.

And if Selphie was with Irvine, she was safe for the time being.

Tipsy and feeling lighter than she had in ages, Rinoa linked her arm through Zell's as they left the club and walked to the hotel a short distance away.

"We should do stuff like this more often," Zell said.

"What, chase drunk Selphie away from groups of strangers?" Rinoa teased.

"You know what I mean," Zell said. "Nights out. Weekends away. Sightseeing. It feels really good to be out, you know?"

"It's so much harder when you have kids," Rinoa said.

"Maybe not," Zell said. "Laguna said he'd be happy to take them off your hands whenever you needed it."

"Laguna can't even keep a box turtle alive," Rinoa said. "He's great with the kids, but on his own, for extended periods of time? I just don't know."

"Aww, give the guy some credit," Zell said. His arm snaked around her waist. "Kiros and Ward wouldn't let him forget to feed them. Hell, Ella wouldn't let him forget. You know how she gets when she's hungry."

"I know, it's just... It's hard to trust someone else with your kids. Daytime, when I'm close by is one thing. A couple of days, with an ocean between us is something else." she said. "And if something happened to either of them, I'd never forgive myself."

Zell opened the door for her and guided her into the Hotel lobby. His hand remained on the small of her back like it belonged there.

As she stepped into the elevator, Rinoa thought about the future.

She couldn't picture loving or marrying someone else, or having to go through the hell of dating as a widow and single parent. She was a few steps closer to moving on, but there was still a long, long way to go.

But, Hyne she was lonely. Without Zell's constant company, she'd be lost, and she was so very grateful for his friendship.

"We could do something with the kids," he suggested. "Go camping on the beach. Have a big bonfire and set up tents and have a big party with everybody. Ella would love that."

It was a nice idea, but every year, the number of people that encompassed   _everybody_  got smaller and smaller.

"We'll make s'mores and cook stuff in foil packets. Watch the stars, tell ghost stories," Zell said. "It'll be awesome."

"That sounds like fun," Rinoa agreed as she slid her key card to unlock the door of the room she was sharing with Selphie. "Maybe once it cools off? October or something?"

“Yeah!” Zell said. “It’s a date.”

She opened the door, took half a step inside and was greeted by the sight of too many feet in her bed, then a man's glowing white butt with a deep, bikini-shaped tan line. Rinoa blinked at it and wondered if she was in the wrong room until Selphie moaned, "Oh, Irvy!"

"Oh my god," she said. “Get your own room!”

She could have kicked them out, but she’d seen enough of Irvine already. She slapped a hand over her eyes and backed out into the hall, closing the door behind her.

Zell started to giggle. That giggle quickly escalated into a hysterical belly laugh and he pressed his face into the wall directly across from the room, leaning into it for support.

"Oh, Irvy!" he cried in falsetto.

"Quit it," Rinoa said, unable to help her own giggles. "They're in my bed!"

"Come on," Zell said, grinning, and offered his arm. "My room's got a king and I’m pretty much cootie free. Worst case scenario, we can build a pillow fence and let those to do... Whatever it is they're doing in there. We'll watch a movie and raid the mini bar. Cool?"

“I hope they’re using birth control,” Rinoa said. “Neither of them are ready to have a kid.”

“I’d get Selphie some antibiotics, too,” Zell said. “Just in case.”

Rinoa laughed, but she wondered about Irvine sometimes. He talked a good game, but she doubted he was as promiscuous as he made himself out to be.

In Zell's room, Rinoa kicked off her shoes and flopped onto the bed as Zell poked through the assorted bottles of alcohol inside the small fridge by the dresser.

"What's your poison?" he asked. "We've got whiskey, gin... Wine?"

"No wine," Rinoa said as she flicked on the television. "It'll make me sick."

Zell joined her on the bed a few minutes later with a pair of drinks in plastic cups and a bag of chips. Rinoa flipped through channels, finding little of interest on the television. News. More news. A documentary about Estharian technology. A martial arts movie.

"Wait, stop there!" Zell said and snatched the remote away from her. On screen, two men engaged in a heavily choreographed fight, complete with silly sound effects. "This is a classic!"

"No," Rinoa whined. "No testosterone-fest. Please, _please_ , not this."

"My room," Zell said as he settled back against the pillow, "my rules. Unless you wanna go watch a train derail in your room..."

Rinoa set her drink aside and lunged for the remote.

"Give me."

"Nope," Zell said and switched the remote to his other hand. "Mine."

"I'll fight you for it."

"Okay, but my drunk reflexes are on point," he said. "Winner gets movie pick?"

"You're on."

She lunged for it again, grabbing for the remote and wound up halfway draped over Zell with her hand wrapped around his wrist. She pried it away from his and scrambled across the bed, jumped up and circled it, laughing as Zell chased her up and over it. He cornered her by the bathroom, threw her over his shoulder and carried her back to the bed.

“Put me down!”

“Sure, if that's what you really want,” he said and slung her onto her back.

She bounced on the mattress and rolled away, giggling, as Zell attempted to reclaim the prize. With almost inhuman speed, he grabbed her by the ankles, dragged her away from the edge, flipped her onto her back and pinned her down.

“Give up?” he asked.

“Never!” she said and tried to squirm away.

His hand seized her wrist and peeled her fingers away from the remote. Rinoa switched it to her other hand, laughing as she hid it behind her back.

He slid his hand under her, stole it from her grasp and held it high in victory.

"You have much to learn, grasshopper," he said. “ _Fists of Steel_ it is!”

Rinoa only became aware of how intimate their respective positions were when Zell's victorious grin softened, then fell away. The way he was looking at her made her heart race.

He released her wrist to comb his fingers through of her hair, a loving, gentle touch that reminded her how long it had been since Squall last made love to her.

Zell tossed the remote aside, both movie and victory forgotten. With great care, he took her face between his hands. One thumb grazed along the edge of her bottom lip, and her heart began to pound.

It had been nearly two years since she'd experienced any sort of physical intimacy, and until now, it never occurred to her how badly she needed it, how completely touch starved she really was. The desire to feel loved overrode any reservation she might have had, and with her inhibition lowered by alcohol, her desire to be touched switched into overdrive.

His lips grazed over her forehead, over her closed eyelids, the tip of her chin before they brushed against her mouth, and Rinoa didn't stop him. She pulled him closer and kissed him back, giving her consent to do more.

"I want you," he breathed in her ear, so softly, Rinoa wasn't sure if she heard it or not.

She didn't push him away when he kissed her a second time, didn't say no. It was easy to let this happen, easy to give in and let her body rather than reason inform her decisions. She needed a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. If allowing Zell to love her helped chase away the hurt, it was worth it, wasn’t it? Didn’t it make sense? The two of them together?

Zell's lips were hesitant and gentle at first, but at Rinoa’s warm response, he grew more eager and determined, and Rinoa let herself be drawn in, desperate to forget, if only for a little while.

He could easily become more than just a friend if she let him, and Rinoa wouldn't deny it. He was a good man, all heart, and kind to both her and the kids. He'd been there all along, day in and day out, no matter what, and she loved him in her own way.

It wasn't the same intense and consuming passion she felt for Squall, but it went just as deep. Over the last two years, they’d developed a bond that was nearly as strong as the one between her and Squall. It was different, but no less important.

If she let him, Zell could be the cure for their respective loneliness. The salve that mended their broken hearts.

Rinoa tugged at the hem of his shirt and slid it over his head. He made a sound she’d never heard from him before when his mouth returned to hers. A sort of desperate, hungry growl in the back of his throat. The skin of his bare back was warm and strong against her wandering hands.

And then Zell pulled back, staring down at her in horror. He wiped a hand over his face and sat up as if she had punched him instead of kissed him.

"Shit," he murmured. "I'm sorry."

Zell moved to the edge of the bed and faced the window. He dropped his head into his hands.

Rinoa didn’t know what to do, or what to say. She was a little too drunk and confused to puzzle out what had stopped him.

"I can't do this, Rin," he said. "It's not right."

"I'm not even sure what  _this_  is," Rinoa said. "But if you want, we can pretend it never happened."

"That's the thing," he said. "I don't want to  _pretend_  anymore."

He exhaled through his mouth, the sound a soft hiss, and he ground his palms against his closed eyes. Rinoa, against her better judgment, scooted to the end of the bed and leaned her face against his back.

He was shaking. Maybe crying.

"This is really hard," he said. "I didn't think it was going to be this hard."

"What are you talking about?"

"All of it," he said wearily. "You, me, the kids. I was just supposed to be the best bud, helping out a friend in need, you know?"

Rinoa didn't understand what he was getting at. Either because alcohol dulled her ability to grasp his meaning, or because he wasn't making sense, but she sensed she wasn't going to like what he was about to say.

"It's my own fault and I'm not blaming you," he said. "I just... It was so easy to let myself fall in love with your family. I mean, I feel like Ari's my own son, like Ella's my daughter and I have all these stupid daydreams about them calling me dad, even though they’re not mine.”

His voice was nearly a whisper, but it was so bitter, she almost didn't recognize the Zell she knew in his tone.

"And tonight, for about two minutes, I thought maybe it was possible you guys really could be my family," he said. "That it wasn't just some idiot thing I think about after everyone's gone to bed."

Rinoa lost her breath. She suspected, but she didn’t realize until now how deep his feelings for the kids ran.

"I’ve always wanted a family," he said. "And there you guys were, you know? A ready-made family that needed me.”

“Zell...”

He turned his head to the side and Rinoa saw the sorrow in his profile. She didn’t finish her sentence.

“And here I am, pretending to be something I'm not, trying to fill Squall's shoes,” he said, “and I just realized  _I'm not him_. I'll never be him."

His heart thumped heavy and hard against her cheek, a bass drum, a timpani, a marching cadence.

"I'd like to think he'd be okay with it, you know?" Zell said. "That he'd rather it be me than some stranger he never met because he knows I'd never, ever hurt you but...” he sighed and bowed his head again. “Rin, it felt like I was betraying him. Like I was going behind his back."

Rinoa hadn't thought of Squall at all in the moment. Not for a second.

She was a terrible person. She should have felt the same, but in the moment, all she wanted was to forget.

Rinoa tightened her grip on his waist, unwilling to let him go. She'd come to count on him too much over the last two years to let go. It was selfish, but they needed each other. He needed her just as much as she needed him. Otherwise, he would not have stayed as long as he had.

He shuddered, brought his his hands to her arms and gently disengaged her from his waist. When he stood, he went to the window without looking back at her, leaned his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes.

"I think I'm gonna move back into Ma's," he said. "The house is just sitting there empty and if I stay I'm gonna fall in love with you and..."

Rinoa's tears spilled over. It was one thing to suspect, and another to know.

"...it's gonna break my heart."

"Zell-”

“That's a lie, Rin,” he said. His voice broke and wavered. “I’m in love with you. I love the kids like they’re mine. And I know better than to hope you feel the same way."

This truth took her breath away. His sincerity hurt and she wished she had it in her to make that dream a reality for him. Hyne knew, he’d done so much for her. He’d kept her head above water all this time, and did whatever needed to be done around the house without question.

She should have seen it before now. She should have paid attention.

Tonight made it clear, she had feelings for him, too. Strong feelings. But she wasn’t in love with him. Not yet. In a year’s time, maybe, maybe two, but it wasn’t fair to expect him to wait for her to come around. It also wasn’t fair to tell him that. It wasn’t fair to give him hope for something that may not ever happen.

“I feel like such an asshole,” he said. “I shouldn’t have -”

Rinoa was the asshole. She was the one that pretended from time to time he was Squall. She was the one who allowed him to play husband in every way but one. It wasn't his fault he saw hope for more. That blame lay squarely on Rinoa's shoulders she could only be angry with herself for taking advantage of his selflessness, even if she hadn’t been aware that was what she was doing until now.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said. “It’s my fault.”

“It isn’t. I knew better. I'm an idiot.”

He pushed away from the window and began gathering his things. Rinoa feared if he walked out, the damage couldn’t be undone.

“You’re not an idiot,” she said. “You’re just drunk, okay? We’ll laugh about this tomorrow. I know it.”

Zell’s face crumpled and his hand tightened around a pair of sweat pants.

“I gotta go,” he said. “I can’t be here right now.”

“Please don’t leave it like this.”

“I'll still be around if you need me,” he said and shoved the sweatpants in his bag, “just not as close."

“Zell, please,” she said. “Don’t run away.”

“I’m not running,” he said. “I’m protecting myself.”

She should have seen this coming. It wasn't right to expect him to stick around forever, but she wished there was some way to do that without losing her best friend in the process.

Her heart broke as he tossed the rest of his things into his bag and walked out, but she had no right to try to stop him. He was not responsible for her, and she didn't have the right to beg him to stay.

No matter how much she wanted to.

* * *

Zell walked the streets of Dollet until the sun came up, unable to face Rinoa after everything he'd said.

Why did he say anything at all? Why had he kissed her? What the hell was he thinking?

Because there was some part of him that hoped she felt the same way, that she would convince him there was no reason to feel like such a prick.

Squall was gone. It wasn't cheating.

He should have known better than to think there could be more, that maybe she felt the same way. It was stupid, but for a minute, he allowed himself to imagine a future together, built on trust and genuine friendship, a future where he got the family he wanted so badly without having to even work for it.

That was the problem right there.

It was so easy to pretend they were his. He fit so easily and so seamlessly into Rinoa's family that he started to believe himself a part of it. He fell in love with Ella and Ari, with Rinoa and the house and with the comfort of having someone to come home to at the end of the day.

It hurt like hell to walk away, but he was a fool to think he could even compete with Squall's memory. He would never measure up and he shouldn't have tried.

He’d hoped she would say it back. That she would give him some glimmer of hope that they had a future together, but she hadn’t. She hadn’t begged him to talk it out, and she hadn’t tried to stop him from leaving.

That said a lot.

The worst part, though, was how powerfully guilty he felt about the whole thing. Squall was gone, but it still felt as though he’d just tried to steal his best friend’s wife. It didn’t matter that Squall was dead, it felt the same.

And now he’d gone and wrecked a friendship because he was a drunk, stupid shithead who couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

At least he had the decency to put a stop to it before it went too far. He was glad for that. It would be so much worse if he’d ignored that nagging little voice in his head and went through with it, only to have them both regret it in the morning.

He boarded the first train out of Dollet and went directly to the house when he arrived in Balamb to pack his things. Quistis was in the living room with the kids, surprised by his early arrival.

"Where are Rinoa and Selphie?" Quistis asked.

"Not with me," he said. "I'm just gonna grab a few things and go. They'll be here after lunch."

"What happened?"

Zell just shook his head. There was no way he would tell Quistis he’d made a move on Rinoa and cock-blocked himself because he had a conscience.

He didn't look at the photos of himself with Rinoa and the kids or let himself think about how those photos replaced the pictures of Squall. He didn't look at the kids, even as Ella crashed into his legs and hugged him tight, Ari toddling behind her on adorable pudgy little legs.

"Sell," Ari greeted and clapped his hands. "Dood."

Zell pressed his lips together and tried not to fall apart. He bent down, scooped Ari up and held on, his face against the boy's head. He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't. They weren't his to cry over. He had overstayed his welcome. This was not his home, and these were not his kids.

"Hey little dude," he said. "How you been?"

"Ba!"

"Yeah, me too," Zell agreed.

What was he doing? This only made it harder. He needed to get his things, say goodbye and leave.

But, when he walked out of the house an hour later, it felt like he was turning his back on everything and everyone he loved.

Maybe, because he was.

He sure as hell had no one else left.

* * *

The small shipping company TBI was owned and operated by a woman named Theresa Black, but none of the employees could agree on what she looked like. That was evidence enough for Seifer to dig into the company to see what he could find out.

There wasn't much, as the company's fleet of six shipping vessels rarely left the harbor in Dollet. Five of the six were in such bad repair, Seifer doubted they were even seaworthy. All of them were full of rusted, empty shipping containers, and no one at port had ever seen anyone aboard.

A seventh vessel was registered to the company – a luxury sailboat with a powerful onboard motor that was designed for both leisure and speed. No one knew where it was, and there was no record for more than two years of it in or out of port in Dollet, but Seifer found the registration number logged in Balamb on several occasions in the last year.

Trabia didn't keep port arrival and departure records on leisure vessels, so he couldn't confirm that it was in the area when Squall was captured, but Seifer doubted it mattered so much. He asked Laguna to put out a  _be-on-the-lookout_  request for Balamb port officials to alert him if the sail boat arrived in the harbor, and did the same for Dollet, Galbadia and Esthar.

All vessels registered in Dollet were equipped with an onboard tracking monitor. In case of emergency, it could be located anywhere on the globe for up to two weeks, even when submerged, and could not be disabled without shutting off auxiliary power. This would be extremely helpful in tracking it down, if not for Dollet's resistance to lending a hand.

Laguna appealed to the powers that be, and after several months of petitioning the court, along with a bit of evidence to prove the vessel was connected with a series of robberies and terrorist activity in Galbadia, Esthar, and Dollet, they finally relented and provided Laguna with a tracking device, on loan from the Dolletian government for a month.

Presently, Seifer and Ellone were aboard an Estharian military craft built for speed. They brought along six Estharian soldiers from the Special Forces division, people Seifer personally trained, and a small support crew.

They made their way to southern Centra, where the blip on the tracker remained stationary on the screen. It would take days to arrive, leaving Seifer and Ellone with nothing to do but train.

Ellone had progressed by leaps and bounds under Seifer's guidance. She worked hard, didn't mind his gruffness, and took pain like a champ. After a while, their duels became a lot of fun for Seifer. Physically, she was no match for him, but being small and fast and unpredictable, she offered him a different sort of challenge. A typical adversary, Seifer would just pummel into submission, but he couldn't catch her. If he did somehow manage to get her cornered, it was never for long and she always fought her way out.

He feared less for her safety now, but as time went on, he grew more concerned for her mental well being. She spent a significant portion of the last six months attempting to connect without losing consciousness, and it was both physically and emotionally taxing in ways that Seifer could only understand on a basic level. It took a lot of effort for her to stay awake while connected, and she couldn't maintain it long before she was either forced to break the connection or slipped into dreams.

There were long periods of silence following the rare moments when she was able to connect with Squall during the day, but at night, when she slept, it happened more and more often. She would wake up screaming or on the floor in the grips of a seizure, and Seifer would have to throw her in the shower and turn on the cold water to bring her back.

If this didn't end soon, Seifer was going to have Laguna take her off the investigation. It was painful to watch.

Finding Squall became an obsession for Seifer, something he couldn't let go of until he finished it. He was not used to drawn-out cases like this and he hated all the waiting, the bumping into walls, and the lingering certainty that Squall would not be alive at the end of all this.

His history with the younger man was rocky, and they'd never been able to call one another a friend, but it wasn't something Seifer could let go of easily. They'd spilled one another's blood countless times, had scarred each other, had stood on opposite sides of a battlefield, and shared a kind of past only a ward of Garden could understand. After all that, like him or not, Seifer couldn't just throw Squall's life away.

There were debts to pay, after all. It wasn't a quest for redemption, and he didn't need their forgiveness, but he owed them. If he could bring Squall home, perhaps his debt would finally be paid.

Days passed of nothing but endless ocean, the only differences marked by the color of the sky. The closer to Centra they got, the more the weather deteriorated. First rain, then high winds and rough seas and the occasional thunder storm. Afternoons were spent training if the weather was better, and in the evenings, Seifer exhausted resource after resource as he followed leads provided by Cid's trail of crumbs while Ellone tried in vain to reach Squall. When she wasn’t, she played cards with the crew until the realized she was damn near unbeatable.

As they grew closer to their destination, Ellone's anxiety increased. Seifer didn't blame her. He was wound up enough that he didn't sleep so well and was agitated and out of patience with everything and everyone. He'd only slept in his own apartment twice in the last year and he was ready to go home. He missed his own bed and meals not cooked in an industrial kitchen.

It was wearying. But maybe, that steady blip on the radar was a beacon, the light at the end of the tunnel.

More than a week after they left the Port of Dollet, they arrived, half a mile from their destination and prepared for approach.

Ellone sat at the small war room table among soldiers with a thousand times more combat experience than herself, but she fit right in, almost indistinguishable from the more battle worn members of the team. She was dressed in tactical clothing like the others, her blades buckled into holsters at her hips, a warrior of a different kind, but in Seifer’s opinion, she earned her place among them.

There was no plan, only a hope that the vessel they sought was Squall's prison. They would approach, board and search, and if they met any resistance, they had permission to incapacitate.

"We'd like Blackheart alive, if possible, for questioning," Seifer said. "But I'm not gonna lose sleep if she has to be put down."

Ellone visibly winced at his terminology, but they already discussed that possibility in private, and she knew if they were left with no option, it was for the best. The world didn't need someone like Thalia Blackheart in it if there was no hope of saving her from herself.

"Use caution," Seifer said. "She can and will use her abilities against you. Do not engage her. Ellone and I will handle the target ourselves. Your orders are to subdue any remaining crew and search the ship for hostages."

The Esthar team was not informed who the hostage might be. Seifer didn't want news to leak beforehand. It would be devastating if Rinoa heard about it and it turned out to be a bust, or worse, they got to him too late.

"It should go without saying, anything you see and hear during this mission is classified," Seifer said. "You do not go home and tell your spouse or your best friend or your mother. If I hear one whisper about this after the fact, I will personally hunt you down and stick my gunblade up your ass and out the top of your skull, is that understood?"

Up on deck, the sky was a dark, bruised violet to the east and the sea choppy ahead of the coming storm. Seifer frowned at the clouds as his team readied their weapons. If they were lucky, this would be over and done with before the first drop of rain fell. If they weren't, Blackheart wasn't the only force of nature there was to fear.

He took Ellone aside and outfitted her with a radio and an ear piece, then helped her into a bulletproof vest because she wasn't junctioned any more than he was. When he was done, he shook her shoulders lightly, to help ease the tension in her body.

"First real battle, kiddo," he said and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “How’s it feel?”

"I hope it won't be much of one," she said. "And who are you calling kiddo? I'm four years older than you."

She poked him in the shoulder and fiddled with her ear piece. To Seifer, she looked small and breakable. If she wasn't the only defense against Thalia, the only one of them who might be immune to her power, Seifer would leave her behind.

"Hey, Elle... If anything should happen, I want you to know - "

Seifer paused, unsure of what he wanted to say.

"- I still think you've got a puny head," he finished.

Ellone's tiny fists smacked his chest playfully and Seifer backed away, laughing as she struck out at him. She landed light blows against his arms and shoulders until he took her by the wrists and pulled her toward him.

"You are such a jerk," she said. "Just when I thought you might actually say something nice."

"You have a  _nice_  head. Is that better?"

"Why are you so fixated on my head?"

"Because it makes you mad," he said. "And you're cute when you're mad."

Ellone rolled her eyes, but her smile was pleased. 

"Is it really so hard for you to say:  _I'm very fond of you, Ellone Loire. I would be very upset if something happened to you?_ "

"Is that what you want me to say?"

"Forget it," she said. "I understand. You're too manly to admit you enjoy my company."

She pulled away and turned for the rail as their spotter called out and flagged Seifer over. The ship had been sighted.

Seifer followed behind Ellone, an unsettled twinge in his gut as he watched her wrap one gloved hand around the metal railing. He stepped up beside her and cast his eyes to the sea. In the distance, the shape of a sailboat loomed beyond the jetties.

"This could be it, Elle," he said.

She closed her eyes as the wind picked up, nodded and reached for his hand. Seifer didn't have to be told that she was trying to connect with Squall. He knew the look by now.

Their craft picked up speed and Seifer held onto Ellone's hand. His pulse raced in anticipation of a fight and he grinned at the not-so-distant sailboat. They would come alongside the vessel in less than two minutes and Seifer prepared to disembark.

“She’s here,” she said with so much conviction, Seifer didn’t question it. “I can feel her.”

Seifer dragged a hand down the back of her neck and squeezed. They were almost there.

“You ready?” he asked.

Ellone nodded.

“Then let’s go get him.”

* * *

Squall watched with only mild interest as thousands of spiders roamed the room around him. Spindly legged and ugly, they trailed over the walls and across the ceiling like well-organized little armies. He sat perfectly still as several explored his legs and feet, feeling them, but  _not_  feeling them as their hairy appendages moved across his skin.

Across from him, where the wall was supposed to be, was the beach in Balamb. A perfect sunny day, a light breeze. Ella, taller and prettier than ever, dressed in pale blue and ribbons. A flower crown twined through her hair, and the sunlight brought out hints of cinnamon and gold in the long strands. She held the hand of a toddler with dark eyes, a boy with a determined expression and a sturdy build.

"Stay still, Ari," Ella commanded, but the determined boy leaned away from her, his hand opening and closing at the ground. "You can play in the sand later."

Squall blinked away the vision and the spiders around him multiplied in number.  The near-silent whisper of eight-thousand legs in motion should have sent a chill through him, but it didn’t.

He could sense how little time he had left, and this time, he doubted there was much Thalia could do to keep him alive any longer. There was a rattle in his lungs. His heartbeat was erratic and irregular, and his skin was covered in a rash that smelled like death.

Thank Hyne. It was almost over. Might even be today, if he was lucky.

Squall closed his eyes and listened to the sound of rats scratching inside the walls.

He wondered if they would eat him once he was gone.

_Squall. We're coming. Hyne willing, we'll be there soon._

Sis.

Squall didn't dare hope she was really there. He’d heard her before. She’d promised they were coming, but he’d been here so long, he’d begun to think she was a figment of his imagination. She was wishful thinking, not any more real than anything else.

_Listen for a ruckus, Squall. Fighting, raised voices. When you hear it, make some noise. Scream or something, so we can find you._

The only sound Squall heard was the quiet march of minuscule arachnid legs and the slosh of water as the turbulent sea tossed the ship about.

The room around him filled with a blinding light as a bolt of electricity raced along the ceiling and sent branches and forked pathways along the walls to the floor. All the hair on Squall's arms stood up as thin threads of electricity arched toward his skin. A thousand little pin pricks spread out across his body – not painful, but not a pleasant sensation, either.

The spiders morphed into rats, and Zell appeared in the center of the room, Ella on his hip.

" _You're my dad now, right?"_

" _If you want me to be, bud."_

 _“_ _My real dad is dead.”_

 _“_ _Good riddance.”_

Rats crawled up Zell's legs and Squall cringed as they sniffed curiously at Ella's feet. Oblivious, Zell pressed a kiss to Ella's forehead. A rat crawled up the back of her dress and perched on her shoulder, nose and whiskers twitching against her cheek.

All around them, lightning zig-zagged along the walls, turning Zell's eyes a maniacal, electric blue.

" _I'm a better father than you ever were.”_

Squall's hands clenched as the rats swarmed over him. Some of them had too many legs. Too many eyes, some covered in webs of electric threads and spider silk. Squall squeezed his eyes shut to make them go away.

" _I made love to her, Squall,"_ _Zell said_ _in a mean voice_ _._ _"In your bed. And she loved it."_

"Shut up," Squall spat. "Shut up, _shut up!_ You’re not really here."

When he opened his eyes, Zell's smile was vicious, like the perpetual grin of a shark. A rat sniffed at his ear and threads of lightning spread over his tattoo and across half his face. A second Zell appeared beside him and his face melted, disappeared, became a black hole filled with dull stars and swirling galaxies.

Something was happening.

There was no ruckus, as Ellone warned, but it was unusual for Thalia to blend horrors together like this. She delighted in her torments, but they were an organized assault on his senses, not a random collection of terrors or confused and incomplete images. He wasn't sure if Thalia was creating it or if his mind finally splintered.

Cold water trickled up the leg of his pants from a steady river of seawater that bled from under the door. It smelled of the ocean, but also of blood.

Outside the door came a loud bang, several thumps and gunfire. The room filled with Zells, dozens of them, all with pointy toothed smiles and faces that twisted and melted like candle wax. Squall tried to blink it away and half of them winked out of existence. The remainder loomed over him in triumph.

"She's mine now.  _Mine_."

Squall opened his mouth and howled, his voice hoarse and weak among the chorus of hateful words that spewed from the phantom Zells mouths. Eight-legged rats bit and nipped at his legs through his pants and he screamed louder, and only partially because Ellone asked him to.

The door banged open and two men dressed in tactical apparel stepped inside the room, Estharian Special Forces, if he were to judge by the uniforms. They pushed past a dozen razor-toothed Zells and waded through the rats and the water. Electricity twined up their legs and thousands of spiders scattered in their wake.

"We've found a hostage, Sir," one said into his radio. "Below deck."

"Give me a description," a familiar voice came back.

Seifer?

"Dark hair, blue eyes, approximately thirty years old, male," the Estharian said. "Scar like yours..."

"Is he alive?" Seifer asked. "Injured?"

"Looks and smells like he should be dead, Sir, but he's definitely alive."

"Get his name."

The soldier knelt on the floor beside him and squeezed his arm. Tiny spiders flew off like specks of dust and the Zells behind him fizzled out, one by one.

"What's your name?" the soldier asked and held up his radio. "Say it so Almasy can hear."

"Leonhart, Squall. SeeD, Rank A, Balamb Garden Commander," Squall murmured. "ID number 41269."

There was a long pause before Seifer came back.

"... _damn_ good to hear your voice, Leonhart," he said. To the soldier, "Get him unlocked. We'll meet up as soon as Elle's got Blackheart subdued."

"Affirmative," the soldier said. "But he isn't restrained, sir."

Not restrained? There were heavy cuffs around his wrists. He’d worn them for an eternity.

But, when Squall looked down, there were no chains, no metal bracelets. Nothing at all. Confused, he turned his hands over on his thighs and stared at long healed rings of scar tissue around both wrists. There were no bindings at all.

There was a hiss and a concussive sound that rattled the floor beneath him and the air filled with the scent of ozone. Splinters of lightning flickered in the soldier's eyes.

Squall didn't fight as he was lifted to his feet. His legs shook beneath him as diminished and little used muscles refused to support his weight. His head swam and a cold dizziness crept over him. In his chest, his heart fluttered out an irregular beat.

They carried him from the room, and up a narrow staircase where he could smell the ocean and smoke and the cool, clean scent of rain. Sea water misted his face and stung his light-sensitive eyes.

He wasn’t sure if any of this was real, but it sure felt real. Thalia had fooled him before, and this could be one last cruel joke before his heart finally failed him.

Up on deck, a ferocious wind blew. The mainsail tore loose from its ties and flapped in the stiff breeze, ablaze against a dark, boiling sky. Squall was laid down upon the deck and he slumped back as hands and cold instruments were pressed to his skin. Unfamiliar faces swam above him, framed by threads of lightning through the storm clouds overhead.

Beneath him, the ship rocked, and the sky split apart. Squall fixed his gaze upon the burning sail as ash and ember fell like snow around him.

A pair of thin, mean-looking blades crashed down onto the deck beside him and a body slammed into his. Thin arms twined around his torso and held him tight.

"Oh, thank God," she breathed. “You’ve really alive.”

"Elle?"

"It's me,” she said. “We're taking you home, little brother. You're safe, and you’re going home.”


	15. Chapter 15

Squall was in _bad_ shape. Worse than Ellone could have imagined.  In her fantasies about the day he was found, he was always weakened and thin, and in need of a hearty meal, but the man before her was so emaciated, he was quite literally on death's doorstep. 

Ellone blinked back tears as she surveyed her little brother and the damage Thalia had done to him.

Clad in only hospital-style scrub pants, Squall's torso was covered in scars and bruises and she could count every single rib beneath pale, almost transparent skin. He was a skeleton covered in flesh, his skin sickly gray and his eyes dull and sunken in a face so thin, she barely recognized him.

It was a miracle he'd survived this long in this condition, but he wouldn't have lasted much longer, no matter how strong he was. They might have found him alive, but Ellone wasn’t sure he would make it back to Esthar with a heartbeat.

How someone could do this to another human being was beyond her.  

She fought back tears and touched Squall’s face. If he recognized her, it didn’t show.

"Sorry we took so long," she murmured. "But you're safe now."

He could barely keep his eyes open, but his chapped lips moved as if he was trying to say something. All that came out was a raspy, breathy sound.

"It's okay," she said. "Don't try to talk if it's too hard."

His eyes rolled toward her, bloodshot and dull.

"Are you really here?" he murmured.

It was barely a whisper but it was something.

"I'm really here, I promise," she said with a smile. "We're going to get you patched up and take you home to your family."

"Is it still mine?"

"Of course it is," she said, perplexed by the question.

Seifer crouched beside her, his face full of pity at the pathetic sight of Squall Leonhart wasted to the point of crisis. He laid a hand against her shoulder.

"Hate to interrupt the reunion, but we still need to apprehend Blackheart."

Ellone kissed Squall’s forehead, fighting back the urge to cry her eyes out for him. She wanted to stay by his side, in case it was too late, so that at the very least, someone who loved him was with him in the end.

“Let the medics take care of him,” Seifer said. “He’s in good hands.”

Ellone wiped her eyes, collected her blades and stood. In her relief at finding Squall alive, she'd forgotten about the other part of their mission. There was no way Ellone could let Thalia Blackehart go free. Not after seeing the aftermath of what she'd done.  

Her hands curled around the grips of her blades and she gritted her teeth as she peered up at Seifer. Never in her life had she wanted someone dead as much as she did now. If she got the chance, Thalia would pay for what she'd done to Squall.

Seifer dragged a hand over her windblown hair and brushed a thumb along the ridge of her cheekbone. In his eyes, something powerful and animal burned bright. He stared at her, unflinching, and in that instant, she recognized it.

It was blood lust. A hunger.

She knew what it was because she felt it too.

"Let's go kill her," she said.

Seifer’s grin was huge and toothy. Ellone didn’t smile back, but she laid a hand against his chest.  To ground herself.  Reaffirm what it was she was here for.   

He didn’t flinch or break eye-contact. His hand covered hers and he nodded.

“She’s all yours,” he said. “I’m your support.”

He turned back to Squall and the medics attending to him.

"Stop whatever it is you're doing and get him to the vessel. It’s fuckin’ cold out here and don't want to chance her getting a hold of him again."

"Team, give me a status on Blackheart," Ellone said into her radio. "Anyone got a location?"

"Wheelhouse clear."

"Berth clear. No sign of target."

Bolts of lightning raced along the deck at her feet and up the masts, mirroring the electrified and boiling sky above. Ellone blinked and the image was gone, but Seifer reacted as if it was still there and jumped out of the way of something she couldn't see.

There was a burst of gunfire from below, shouts and several people tried to speak at once. Ellone turned for the hatch that led below.

"I didn't copy," Ellone said into her microphone. "Repeat?"

"Below deck, Ma'am, we've got her cornered."

"Do not engage," Seifer barked. "Keep her there, but _do not_ engage."

"We're standing in knee deep water, Sir," a second voice came back. "Ship's sinking. Requesting evac."

Ellone jogged to the rail and looked down at the side of the sailboat, Seifer close behind. There were no visible signs of damage to the hull, no sign the boat sat any lower in the water than it should have.

"It's just her tricks," Ellone said. Seifer concurred.

"Hold your positions," Seifer said. 

Over the radio came shouted curses and call-outs from below, seasoned soldiers panicking over whatever it was they saw down there.

Beside her, Seifer flinched and spun around with wide eyes, spitting out a curse and a warning at something that wasn’t there. He slung an arm around Ellone's waist and threw her to the deck, shielding her with his body from an imaginary attack.

Whatever he saw, it terrified him. Ellone had only seen Seifer afraid a handful of times, and only in the wake of one of her seizures, but those times didn’t compare to this. And whatever it was he saw, it wasn’t visible to Ellone, but he was shaking like a kicked dog, his full weight crushing her into the deck.

“It’s just another trick,” she said. “There’s nothing there.”

"You don't see her?" he asked. His face pressed into the crook of her neck. “You don’t fucking see that?”

"No," she said. "It isn't real, now _get off me_.”

She was curious about what he saw, but it was less important than finding and subduing Thalia before she convinced the entire team to drown themselves. What he saw didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was stopping Thalia before she could hurt anyone else.

"She's heading your way, Ma'am," someone said on the radio. "Coming up the stairs."

Ellone shoved Seifer off of her and sprang to her feet, blood boiling and eager for payback.

Seifer would be of little use to her if he had no choice but to see whatever Thalia was showing him. Ellone had an advantage over everyone else on board. She saw through the illusions somehow, if she saw them at all, and if Thalia was too focused on creating her invisible hell, Ellone stood a good chance of getting the upper hand.

She dashed across the deck, weapons drawn, toward the hatch, and nearly collided with her prey. Thalia lunged, swinging a katana-style blade, and the air around them shimmered with heat, warped and wavered.

Ellone sensed that Thalia was trying to distract her with a vision, but whatever it was, it didn’t manifest. Thalia, unhappy that she no longer had an advantage, lunged again, brandishing her weapon clumsily, taking wild swipes as she advanced.

It was clear to Ellone this was not a sword Thalia was trained to use. She handled it like a child playing at being a soldier, but that didn’t make her any less dangerous. Ellone would not let her guard down. All it took was one well-placed cut and it would all be over.

Ellone defended herself against a flurry of attacks, deflecting them with ease as she backed across the deck. In her inexperience, Thalia thought she had the upper hand, that she was driving Ellone back, but Ellone was the one in control.

It was a tactic Seifer taught her. He called it “Dope on a Rope.” The point was to wear an overzealous opponent down, all while leading them out of close quarters and into a better position without them realizing it.

Unaware that Ellone was the one guiding her, Thalia grinned triumphantly as she struck out at Ellone again and again and again. Ellone deflected or avoided most of her attacks, and only returned fire when the woman left herself open for it.

Somewhere nearby, Seifer cursed and slammed into something, and Ellone spared a second to glance at him. A few feet away, he lay curled in the fetal position, covering his head with his arms, under attack by imaginary beasts.

In that split second of distraction, Thalia flew forward, her blade straight out. It pierced the bullet proof vest and stuck in the layers of material, sparing Ellone a fatal blow.

No distractions. Not even Seifer.

He was fine. He would be fine.

She kicked out and planted her foot in Thalia’s stomach as the woman attempted to dislodge the blade from the vest. Both Thalia and the katana were sent backward onto the deck, _hard_.

Seifer, still in the fetal position, let out a string of curses and a strange sobbing sound.

“Your friend seems to be having some trouble,” Thalia said breathlessly. She pushed herself up onto her elbows and smiled. “Wouldn't he be fun to play with for a while. Maybe even more fun than your brother.”

Something inside Ellone snapped. Filled with a savage fury, she tossed one of her blades aside and dropped down on the fallen woman to deliver an open-handed slap across her pale cheek. Thalia cried out, and Ellone backhanded her. Blood bloomed on Thalia’s lip and Ellone wanted _more_. She wouldn’t be satisfied until every last drop of it leaked across the deck and spilled into the sea.

Thalia reached for Ellone’s throat, but Ellone batted it aside before she could reach it.

It was another distraction. Thalia’s free hand wrapped around Ellone’s wrist and twisted, twisted, until Ellone was forced to release her second blade. It clattered to the deck as the rain began to fall hard and the world around them rumbled.

“I could play with you both,” Thalia said. “Make you watch him die slowly and then pick you apart peice by peice.”

Ellone hit her again, this time with a closed fist, the way Seifer had taught her. Blood burst from Thalia's nose, but she laughed and lashed out and raked her fingernails down the side of Ellone's neck, from ear to collarbone. Her nails dug in deep, sharp as razor blades, but Ellone ignored the pain and grabbed a fist full of Thalia's long, platinum hair.

"He'd be easy to break," Thalia said.  "He's not as tough as he seems." 

“You’re a monster,” Ellone growled.

"So are you," Thalia said with a laugh. "Just like me.”

Cold and heavy, drops of rain clattered against the fiberglass and chrome fixtures as Ellone continued to struggle with her prey. Beneath her, Thalia wriggled, struggled, fought, and finally seized Ellone's arm and twisted it, and Ellone had no choice but to retreat or have her arm broken.

She rolled away and grabbed one of her discarded blades as Thalia jumped to her feet and ran. Ellone took a swipe at her and the hooked tip of her blade caught in the meat of Thalia’s calf. Thalia screamed and stumbled, then fell face-first on the deck.

Ellone was on her back in seconds, the blood from Thalia’s wound mixing with rain. She held her blade aloft, both hands wrapped around the grip and aimed for Thalia’s back. Beneath her, Thalia bucked and threw Ellone off, just as the blade came down. It lodged in the fiberglass with a crack, just an inch from Thalia’s shoulder.

Thalia shot to her feet and fled toward the edge of the boat, toward the sea.

Ellone followed, but was thrown sideways and into the wheelhouse as the deck beneath her shifted. A wave crashed over the stern, sending a wall of water over everything. Soaked to the bone, and salt stinging her eyes, Ellone had lost sight of Thalia.

As the water subsided, Ellone scanned the deck for her quarry. A few feet away, a shaky Seifer stood and steadied himself against the mainsail’s mast, cursing.

The rain fell even harder now, obscuring her view. She couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of her.

“She’s over there,” Seifer called. “At the front.”

Ellone turned her attention to the bow, where Thalia, shrouded in rain and sea-spray, prepared to climb the rail.

Seifer sprinted toward her, sliding on the deck, and Ellone was close at his heels. He stumbled, but Ellone did not stop to help him up. She passed him and dove for Thalia.

Her hand wrapped around Thalia’s ankle, then slid off bare skin slick with blood, rain, and sea water. Thalia kicked her in the side of the head, climbed the rail, and jumped into the water.

Ellone’s vision blurred, but she pressed forward and pulled herself to her feet.

As she placed a foot up on the rail to follow, she was jerked backwards. A pair of strong arms encircled her and pulled her back, back, away from her shot at ending this.

“No,” Seifer said. “Fuck no.”

All of Ellone's focus had narrowed to a singular goal, and Seifer was standing in the way of that. She thrashed and screamed as he lifted her off the ground to drag her away from the edge, and she fought him every step of the way. There was no way she was leaving here without making sure Thalia paid for the last two years. There was no way she would just let her go. No way.

"No, Elle,” he said.

"Let me go!" she cried and dug her nails into his restraining arms.

"Elle. _No_."

Desperate to follow, to give Thalia her due, Ellone lifted her foot and smashed the heel of her boot against Seifer's shin. He howled and swore at her, but his grip tightened as she struggled to free herself.

"Goddamnit!" he growled. "You _can't_."

"Please, just let me finish this," she cried. "Please, Seifer. I have to stop her. _Please_."

"We did what we came to do," he said. "We got Squall. Let her go. She’s gonna fuckin’ drown anyway."

She continued to fight, blinded by rage so powerful she couldn't think straight. Seifer cursed as he wrestled with her, but all Ellone saw was an opportunity for justice slipping away. When the top of her head collided with Seifer's face, he grunted and resorted to a loose choke hold. He hooked an arm behind both her elbows and bent her body backward until she was forced to stop fighting.

Ellone stood there panting and unable to fight as rain spilled down her face like tears.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said in her ear. "I will if I have to."

Frustrated, angry and emotionally spent, Ellone collapsed back against him. All the fight drained out of her, and she felt like she was going to vomit from bitterness. She'd failed.

"This is secondary, El," he said. "I know you're pissed. I _know_ you want blood, but there's a good chance she's already dead. It's too rough and it's too far for her to make it to the shore alive."

"Promise me we'll get her if she _is_ still alive," she said through clenched teeth. “Promise me.”

"If she's still alive, and we find her, I'll let you tear her apart," Seifer promised. "But right now, let's focus on Squall."

Ellone's knees went weak, and the urge to cry was almost too strong to fight.

"Right now, he needs you more than you need to kill her," Seifer said. His grip loosened. "And I don't want you to die."

* * *

There wasn't time to investigate the sailboat further. Squall needed immediate medical attention and he was the greater priority. Seifer left Ellone with Squall and sent two men with rations and orders to secure the vessel and eliminate Blackheart should she return. He readied the crew and the returning team for departure, then made a call to Laguna to arrange an airlift. It would take a week to get back to Esthar on their vessel, and though the medics were capable, Squall needed more help than they could offer.

Laguna was stunned when Seifer gave him the news, as if he hadn't believed Squall would ever be found alive. Seifer waited impatiently through the long silence that followed and was forced to interrupt when it became too drawn out.

"Rinoa doesn't need to see him like this," Seifer said. "It's your call, but I'm not convinced he's gonna make it, and I don't want her to know about this if he's on his way out."

"...is he that bad?"

"He looks like he kicked the bucket a month ago."

Laguna started to sob.

"I'll have a room prepared for him," Laguna bawled. "Whatever he needs."

Seifer waited until Laguna got himself under control before speaking again.

"And transport?"

"We'll meet you somewhere in the Ragnarok," Laguna said. "It's equipped for medical emergencies. I'll have the crew prepare and get back to you on a rendezvous point."

"Good enough for me," Seifer said.

He poked his head in the door of the small infirmary, where the medics were busy attending to Squall. Ellone sat at his bedside, stone-faced and her jaw set as she held Squall's hand. She was still soaking wet from the rain, her hair plastered to her head and she shivered under the blast of cold air from the vent above. Four long bleeding scratches ran down the side of her neck.  Blood dried on her bottom lip.

Before today, he didn’t think Ellone had it in her to kill anything in cold blood but now he thought different. If she’d gotten the chance, she would have utterly destroyed Thalia Blackheart. She would have jumped into the sea without hesitation if Seifer hadn’t stopped her.

Ellone had lost loved ones. She’d suffered abuses no one should ever have to endure. She'd been hunted most of her life and had been forced to hide because of what she was. Through all of it, she'd stood strong, but in Seifer's experience, even the strongest of people had their breaking point.

Seifer wasn’t surprised she’d lost it. She had the right, but it bothered him to see her so eager to kill, even someone like Blackheart. 

Maybe that was because he still percieved her as fragile and delicate. Someone to be protected and shielded from danger.  She'd proved him wrong today.

He stepped inside the infirmary and took a good look at the man on the cot.

Seifer had never personally seen a human being so incredibly emaciated and still have a heartbeat. If they’d waited another day or two, they would have been too late. He was absolutely certain of that.

There were tubes in Squall's arms and his nose to provide fluids and nourishment and oxygen. A pair of monitors beside the bed measured vital signs.

Seifer took a seat on a stool beside Ellone and let his hand rest between her shoulder blades. Squall’s sunken eyes slid over him, then away, and fixed on the ceiling. Ellone tightened her grip on Squall’s hand, her fingers pale and going slightly blue, but Squall didn’t grip back. Seifer doubted he had the strength.

Ellone’s teeth chattered together and Seifer hitched his head at the door.

"Why don't you go put on some dry clothes? Get those scratches looked at," he said.

It was clear Ellone preferred to stay, but she nodded and let go of Squall's hand. She leaned down, kissed Squall on the forehead, and left without a word.

Seifer slumped forward on his stool and looked at the pathetic mess before him.

"We've been looking for you for two years, Leonhart."

Squall's head turned toward him.

"...has it been that long?"

"Give or take a month," Seifer said. "You look awesome, by the way."

Squall's laugh was a soft, breathy sound, more a pant than a chuckle. Seifer was surprised he had enough gas left to have a sense of humor.

"You worked me over pretty good once, but..." he gave a shuddering sigh, as if it sapped his remaining strength to speak, "you're a lightweight."

Seifer chuckled without humor, preferring not to remember that, checked himself before he patted Squall's shoulder, and leaned forward, arms braced against his knees. It had been at least a decade since Seifer had shed a tear, maybe longer, but for a half a second he almost did on Squall's behalf. 

Later, maybe. When he was alone and had a good half a bottle of whiskey in him. Maybe then.

"I don't know if any of this is real," Squall murmured as his eyes closed. "She could be fucking with me again."

"She's not," Seifer said. "Not this time."

"Forgive me if I don't believe you."

Seifer thought it was a good sign Squall was alert and able to carry on a conversation, but he wasn’t so sure Squall would live through the next few days, even with the best medical care in the world. It wasn’t just a matter of getting food in him. His organs were on the verge of shutting down. His weakened heart could give out from the stress of transport.

And even if he lived through it, there was still the matter of rehabilitation. He couldn’t walk. He couldn’t hold his head up on his own for more than a few seconds.

Squall had a long and tough road ahead of him, and there was no telling whether or not he would ever fully recuperate. 

“Can’t tell what’s real anymore.”

"I’d question reality, too, if I was in your shoes," Seifer said. "But I promise you, this is real."

Squall's eyes followed something on the ceiling, from one end of the room to the other.

"Ellone was there sometimes," Squall said. "In my head."

"I know," Seifer said. He patted Squall's thin forearm. "She never gave up on you."

"Are the spiders really here?" Squall wondered. "Up there?"

Seifer lifted his eyes to the ceiling and saw nothing but the light fixtures.

* * *

Rinoa dreamed of a dark, bruised sky. The clouds above her boiled and churned and lit up from within as lightning fractured the heavens like a busted, spider-webbed windshield. Thunder rumbled the surface at her back and reverberated all through her aching, tired bones. Above, torn and ghostly fabric caught fire and twisted in the breeze.

Her limbs were heavy and cold, muscles immobile, mouth dry. The air smelled of rain and sea and smoke, and particles of white and amber fell all around her, ashes and ember, like snow. There were shouts all around, but the words made no sense. Strange hands touched her, a familiar face above her, a flash of steel, and rain began to fall along with the ash.

_You're safe now._

With fear, confusion, and a deep and unsettling fire all the way through to the marrow of her bones, she tried to sit upright, but hands steadied her and lifted her. Something insectile skittered up the leg of her pants - _not real, not real, but oh, god get it off!_ And Ellone’s voice -

_Let’s go kill her._

The clouds bled downward, obscured her limited view into a gray nothingness shot through with webs of electricity. Hands caressed her bare skin, lips touched her collarbone -

_I love you. I'm sorry._

And when the fog cleared, a woman with silvery eyes stared back at her. She was soaking wet and her pale hair hung in long clumps over her bare shoulders.  Beads of water clung to her skin, her plush mouth stained the color of blood. Rinoa flinched as the woman drew a cold hand down the length of her torso, fingernails scratching over her ribs.

"You are magnificent, Squall."

_Squall?_

"Most men would lay down and wait to die," the woman said. "You keep asking me for death, but you're still fighting."

Lips pressed to hers, fingers coiled in her hair and Rinoa panicked. There was something wrong with her arms, her legs. Pinned down beneath the woman, she couldn't fight back and when Rinoa looked down at her body, it wasn't her body, but that of a man.

"Kill me or let me go."

_Squall?!_

She was struck hard across the face and a burst of pain shot through her head. She tasted blood on the back of her tongue and her vision went white, then dark, and the sky was filled with fire and electricity and ash fell like snow all around her.

Rinoa woke with a bloody nose.

Her body wanted to go in every direction at once, her heart knocking against her ribs in anticipation of a fight. She wiped blood from her lips and stared at it in confusion, her heartbeat pulsing in the left side of her face as if she'd been struck.

She climbed slowly from the bed and probed at her nose, winced, and bolted for the bathroom. In the mirror were blurred shades of pale milk and black and crimson, and the face peering back at her was not her own, but Squall's – too pale, too thin, eyes too haunted to belong to the man she loved. She lifted her hand to the glass and dropped it as Squall did too, his fingers leaving a bloody smear on the way down.

Over the last two years, she'd dreamed of him, but never like this. Never like this.

She'd had nightmares, but never something so confusing or horrifying as this. The man reflected back at her looked hollow and drained – almost a corpse, almost nothing left.

He flickered, out of focus first, then vanished altogether, and he was replaced by the woman from the dream. Her crimson lips curved into a cruel smile and her silvery eyes were cold. Rinoa stepped back, fearful that she could come through the mirror, that she was really there.

"He thought I was you."

Rinoa backed all the way to the wall behind her and pressed against it, eyes wide and her heart in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, her hands fists at her sides and she took a deep, slow breath.

When she opened her eyes, the woman was gone. A lone spider crawled through the sink, front legs exploring the surface of the porcelain. It disappeared down the drain, only to re-emerge with friends.

She scrambled out of the bathroom as the spiders spread out and climbed the walls, over the mirror, where the blonde woman peered back at her with eyes back-lit by some inner glow. Rinoa bumped into something, screamed and spun around to face a diminished and dead-eyed Squall.

"You didn't even wait for me to leave, did you?" he asked.

A bony, skeletal arm shot out and seized her around the throat, cutting off a scream as he shoved her toward the bed. His eyes were crazed, bright with madness, and Rinoa knew for certain she was still dreaming. Squall had never looked at her like that, never touched her so roughly. In his emaciated state, didn't even appear to be capable of standing, let alone treating her with such violence.

"Did you fuck him while I was at work?" he breathed in her ear. "In our house?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Don't lie," he said. "I saw you. Both of you."

His grip on her throat tightened. She coughed and struck at him but when he didn't release her, her body reacted with a Gravija spell that knocked him into the opposite wall. Spiders poured in from the bathroom, over his hair and his arms and legs and he dissolved into ashen particles as Rinoa sank to her knees. A thin scream escaped her lips and she closed her eyes, willing herself awake.

"Mommy?"

She shot to her feet and went to Ella and ushered her out of the bedroom. Whatever had just happened, if it was still happening, Rinoa didn't want her daughter to see it. In the hall, ashes and embers fell from the ceiling, coated the carpet and baseboards. She blinked, and they were gone.

"What happened to your face?" Ella wondered. "You've got blood on you."

Rinoa had forgotten about her injury and lifted a hand to her still bleeding nose.

"It's okay. I fell in the bathroom," Rinoa lied. "Why don't you start getting ready for school and I'll make you some breakfast?"

Ella’s expression was an echo of Squall’s most serious look.

"There's a spider on your leg," she said gravely.

Rinoa glanced down at the hitchhiker and slapped it off her pajama pants and stomped it with her bare foot. Bilious disgust rose in her throat and she swallowed it down to force a smile for Ella.

"Go get ready, sweetie."

She retrieved Ari, who sat in his crib, babbling happily at his stuffed turtle. He giggled when Rinoa lifted him into her arms and kissed his chubby cheek.

"Dood," he said.

Zell's name, or a close approximation, had been Ari's first clearly spoken word. _Dude_ was the second. If Rinoa needed any evidence of how close their bond, she needed to look no further.

It hurt every time she heard it. Zell had become an enormous part of her family’s life, and his absence left another huge and gaping hole in her heart.

"You're Ari," she corrected. "I'm mommy."

“Dood.”

“Ari.”

“Dood?”

Rinoa sighed and kissed his forehead. He ducked his head into her shoulder and patted her cheek with a soft little hand. When he pulled it away, there was a smear of blood on his palm.

In mild panic, she used the hem of her shirt to wipe it away. Her blood was safe, but she was not sure it was even hers.

Downstairs, Rinoa put Ari in the walker he would soon outgrow and brewed a pot of coffee. She ignored her trembling hands but found herself searching for spiders and for faces other than her own in the reflections in nearby appliances and surfaces. There was no one but Rinoa, wild eyed, still bloody, her hair in disarray.

In the kitchen sink, she washed her face and felt along the bridge of her nose for injury.

It was broken.

Had she bashed her face on something while asleep? It didn’t make sense otherwise.

The rest of the day, Rinoa was keyed up and anxious, certain from time to time that something watched just outside her peripheral vision. Each time she turned to look, there was nothing there, but as her paranoia increased, every little sound became a threat.

Something was wrong.

The sense that something was about to happen was too powerful to ignore. As she sat staring at the computer screen in her office, she wondered if she was about to crack.

She picked up the phone and dialed Dr. Kadowaki, but Xu answered instead.

"We had to let her go, Rinoa," Xu said. "In fact, as of the end of this week, Garden is closing."

"What?"

This was news to Rinoa. She’d heard they were struggling after Cid’s death, but Quistis never let on that it was so bad that they would have to close.

"Cid's creditors have come to claim it," Xu said. "He apparently used it as collateral for a loan and now that he's dead and can't pay it back, we're being evicted."

"Can't you just run them off?" Rinoa asked. “Like we did with Norg?”

"Believe me, I wanted to, but legally, we have to turn it over."

"I didn't know any of this."

"We've kept it quiet, so I'd appreciate it if you don't spread it around until we make the official announcement."

"What happens to all the wards?" Rinoa wondered. "And the permanent residents?"

"Most will transfer to Galbadia," she said. "Quistis is going with them, but I've taken a position at Trabia."

"Wow," she said. "Is there any way I can get in touch with Dr. Kadowaki? It's urgent."

"I can't give out her personal information, but I can pass a message along for her to contact you," Xu said.

"Thank you. Tell her it’s urgent."

“Are you about to go all magical dictator on us?” Xu asked. “Do I need to call Odine?”

“Not if you can help it,” Rinoa said. "I'm fine, I just need some advice and she's the best person to ask."

"Better be," Xu said. "If you're lying -"

"Just tell her to call me."

Rinoa hung up the phone, that nagging feeling still in her gut.

Something had happened. She was sure of it.

Something wasn't right with her, or with someone she loved, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was, outside of it just being a holdover from her nightmare.

Around her wrist, the Odine bangle sizzled painlessly against her skin. Arcs of blueish light twined around the cool metal and crawled up the back of her hand, down her arm, over her fingers. The bangle had done this before, but not quite so brilliantly, and only when she'd been in emotional or physical distress. Though anxious, she wasn't in an intense enough state for either to be the cause.

Her next call was to Laguna. She got Kiros instead.

"He's en route to a conference at the moment," Kiros said. "No need to worry."

"What about Ellone?" Rinoa asked. "Have you heard from her?"

"Still out in the field with Almasy."

“They’ve been working together for a while now,” Rinoa said. “More than a year, right?”

“Longer,” Kiros said. “I’m told they make a good team.”

“Seifer doesn’t do teamwork.”

“Ellone seems to be the exception,” he said. 

Rinoa wondered if that had something to do with the romance Laguna mentioned.

"If you hear from either of them, tell them to call me as soon as possible."

"Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine, I just need to make sure _they're_ fine."

"All is well, as far as I know."

She texted Selphie, who had been holed up in her apartment with Irvine for the last two weeks. They'd been inseparable since reconnecting in Dollet and had scarcely left, except to replenish Selphie's candy supply and look after the kids when Rinoa needed it.

If history repeated itself, they would have a three month run of total bliss before they started fighting and Irvine returned to wherever it was he went when they weren't together. It was what they did.

There was no one left to check on but Zell.

They hadn't spoken since he'd left her in Dollet. Over the last two weeks, they'd only exchanged a text or two. He didn't always answer and when he did, his replies were terse, her requests to talk denied.

Rinoa felt his absence, particularly in the evening, when Ella clamored for him, and Ari asked, "Sell?" in a plaintive little voice as he toddled through the house in search of his best friend.

She bit her lip and typed a message, hoping he would respond this time.

_Are you okay? Please check in ASAP._

There was no response, but Selphie messaged back a minute later.

 _We’re h_ _unky dory! Irvy's making me lunch. He's so_ _ooooo_ _sweet! I think this time, things will be better, because guess what? He proposed!_

Rinoa frowned at her phone and dropped her head into her hand. For Irvine’s sake, she hoped he was serious. There would be absolute hell to pay if he failed to live up to that promise, and if he didn’t, Selphie’s wrath would impact everyone around her.

When Zell didn't message back, she called. His phone rang once then went to voice mail, so she was sure she'd been dismissed, which meant Zell was fine. She left a message anyway.

A second later, he texted back.

_I'm fine._

_Can we talk? Please?_

_Busy. Hug the kids for me._

_Come by. Hug them yourself._

_Rin, don't._

She tossed her phone on the desk and laid her face in her hands. Her freshly healed nose was still tender and she dropped her hands into her lap, ignoring the pulse in the bone.

In the two years since Squall had died, nobody wanted to leave her alone. Now that she needed a friend or at least a rational voice to talk her through it, there was no one around.

"Are you okay, Mrs. Leonhart?" Melane asked from the door of the office. "You look like you're about to cry."

"Rough morning," Rinoa murmured to her reflection.

"Can I bring you anything?"

"Thank you, no," Rinoa said. "I just need a minute."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, thank you."

"Is it about your boyfriend?" Melane asked. "The cute one with the tattoo?"

Boyfriend? Was that what people thought?

Rinoa supposed it looked like that from the outside. Up until two weeks ago, they'd shared a residence, spent time together out in public. Of course people would assume they were a couple. If she was on the outside, she would think the same.

"It's about a lot of things," Rinoa said.

"Did you two have a fight? He hasn't been by at all."

"We're not together," Rinoa snapped. "And I'd rather not talk about personal things at work."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to pry," Melane said. "So, if you two aren't dating, is he single?"

"You should ask him that," Rinoa said. Her patience ran short as the woman didn't get the hint she wasn't up for a chat. "Can you do me a favor? There's a box of new releases in the store room. Would you mind pricing them so they can go on the shelf tomorrow?"

"Sure. I'll get right on it."

As the woman left, Rinoa rose to her feet and shut off the computer. She collected her purse and made a split second decision to go see Zell in person. They couldn't leave things like this. They'd grown too close to let their friendship end so bitterly.

The Garage was closed when she arrived, and when she peered at the sign, saw that it was only open till noon on Tuesdays. She peered in through the window to see if he was still inside, but all the lights were out. From there, she walked the block to his house and knocked on the door.

Nearly a minute passed without a response. As she was about to turn away, the door opened and Zell peered out.

There were smears of paint on his arms and his chin, his hair held out of his eyes by an elastic hair tie. His face was a mask with no expression as he looked at her from the gap. Rinoa tried her best to smile.

"S'up?"

"Can we talk? Please?"

"Rin, I can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"Both."

"Look, I might be cracking up, and I need to talk to someone because I don't know what I saw this morning, but I'm terrified and Dr. Kadowaki's gone and can't see me, Selphie's busy banging Irvine and Laguna's at some conference, and I sure as hell can't talk to my dad," she gushed, near tears. "Please. I don't know who else to talk to, and if I mean anything to you - "

Zell opened the door wider and ushered her inside. The front room was clear of all furniture and decoration and it smelled heavily of fresh paint. Drop cloths lined the stone floor and there were buckets of paint in the small kitchen.

She followed him to the small den at the back, which was a mess. One side of the room was being used for storage, the other side as a space to do small engine repairs. Parts and tools were spread out across a work table, neat little piles of screws and other things Rinoa couldn't identify were sorted by size.

"Doing a little remodeling?" she asked.

"A lot," he said. "House is old, Ma let things go and didn’t tell me. Plumbing, roof. Tiles coming off the wall in the bathroom upstairs…."

He nodded to the only chair in the room, then took a seat on a small end table near the wall.

"So, what's going on?"

Rinoa told him in detail about the dream, and the hallucinations that followed, but left out the part where Squall accused her of infidelity. She talked about the lingering feeling that someone was in danger or that maybe something bad happened and word hadn’t reached them yet.

The Odine bangle on her wrist continued to flicker and pulse against her skin. Talking about it didn't help as much as she thought. The more she said, the more that odd sensation in her gut grew. Zell listened passively as he watched the thin sparks of light arc from bangle to skin.

"When was the last time you took that thing off?" he asked.

"Not since the last one broke."

"Maybe you just need to go blast the hell out of some bite bugs," he said. "Probably make you feel better, either way."

That made sense. It should have been the first thing she thought about when she noticed the sparks, but she was so worried about her loved ones, it didn’t even occur to her. Pent up magic could have caused the dreams and the anxiety, though in her experience, it had never expressed itself this way. A solid magic purge was long overdue now that he pointed it out.

They sat in silence for nearly a minute before Zell hunched forward and looked at the floor.

"I miss you, Rin," he said. "The kids..."

"They ask about you all the time," she said. "They miss you so much."

"I think about them all the time."

"Ari thinks his name is Dude, thanks to you," she said. "Ella's started calling him that."

He flashed a small smile at the floor.

"Maybe I'll swing by this weekend," he said. "Hang out with them for a bit."

"They'd love that," Rinoa said.

"What about you?"

Rinoa sighed dramatically. "I suppose I can tolerate you for a while."

His hurt look said her teasing was not appreciated.

"I would love it," she said. "You know I would. Friday sound good?"

"I've got a date Friday," he said, but without much enthusiasm.

"Angie?"

"Yeah."

"Saturday, then. Bring her if you want."

"I probably won't. She's not a big fan of kids," he said.

“Did you tell her my kids are awesome?”

His smile this time was bigger, but sad. This was hurting him as much as it hurt her.

“I should get back to work,” he said. “Walls ain’t gonna paint themselves.”

But he didn't get up. He stayed where he was, his eyes fixed on the floor. Rinoa stood, dropped a hand to his shoulder and kissed the top of his head.

There were things she could have said, about Dollet, about her own feelings, about what could eventually be between them in time if he was willing to wait, but she didn't say any of it.

If there was a chance he'd find happiness with Angie, Rinoa would not give him false hope.

Or stand in his way.

* * *

Ellone sat beside Squall as they approached the rendezvous point with the Ragnarok. They would arrive within the hour, and preparations were being made for transport to Esthar, where he would be cared for until he was strong enough to go home to his family.

That would have to be handled delicately. Rinoa had finally begun to pick up the pieces. Squall knew nothing of Ari. According to Laguna, there might be something going on between Rinoa and Zell. If there was, that would only make it more complicated.

On the bed, Squall was awake, but his eyes were fixed on some point far, far away. When she spoke, he didn't always respond. Sometimes, he was lucid, other times he didn't make sense. Ellone told herself there would be time to worry later and she should be grateful he was still alive.

Hours after her confrontation with Thalia, Ellone was still filled with a kind of blood lust she'd never experienced before. Thalia's crimes were written all over Squall's body – scars, bruises, missing pieces – his bones jagged under thin, pale skin, and it told the story of abuse and neglect so profound, killing her would not be enough.

She'd never known the desire to make another suffer, to wish to truly wound and maim someone or to take their life. After reading Odine's file on the woman, Ellone had been sympathetic. Thalia been a girl with a power she couldn't control, tested and manipulated and experimented on to the point of no return. Now, as she surveyed what Thalia had done to Squall, any kinship she might have felt was erased by evidence of her extreme cruelty.

"If she's still alive, Squall, I'm going to kill her."

His eyelids fluttered at the ceiling and his sunken chest rose and fell.

"I wish I knew if you were really here," he said.

"I'm here."

Ellone lifted his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles.

"Edea," he said.

It wasn't a question, but not quite a statement either.

"She's safe, as far as I know," Ellone said. "The White SeeDs are looking after her."

"She needs to know."

Ellone moved closer and turned Squall's face away from whatever held his attention on the ceiling. His eyes had gone wild, fearful. Ellone reached out to stroke his matted and tangled hair and he flinched like she'd struck him.

"What does she need to know?"

"Cid."

"She knows," Ellone assured him. “I’m sure she knows.”

The truth was, Ellone had not been in contact with Edea in nearly a year. The last time they spoke, it was to deliver the news that Cid was gone.

It had been a brief conversation. Ellone wasn’t even sure what Edea did with Cid’s body. There was no memorial, no funeral. Just silence since then.

Bony fingers curled around her wrist and Squall squeezed harder than she imagined he was capable of. His expression was that of a frustrated child without the words to articulate his needs. The rise and fall of his chest increased and he blinked at her rapidly, his lips working as he struggled to explain.

"No."

"Shh. It's okay," she promised. "You're okay."

He wriggled on the bed, pushed himself halfway into a sitting position, panting with the effort, then dropped back down. A low growl rumbled in his throat, followed by a long, thin hiss. One hand smacked the mattress and the other dug into the flesh of Ellone's wrist.

"It's okay, Squall," Ellone promised. "She's not here. It's just me. You're safe."

It was a mantra she kept repeating until he stilled on the bed and his breathing evened.

"We're going to get you back on your feet," Ellone promised. "Then, we'll take you home to your family."

He turned his face to the wall and shook his head.

"They're not my family anymore."

"Of course they are," Ellone said. "Rinoa misses you so much."

"No."

After that, he stopped talking and fell into a sound sleep. Ellone sat with him, watching the rise and fall of his chest under the sheet until they made landfall on a rocky beach not far from the Orphanage. She watched the medics wheel Squall off the transport ship and wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders against a stiff, chilly breeze.

Overhead, the sky was a steely gray and heavy with the promise of rain. She smelled it on the wind. It had once been a scent she associated with her days at the Orphanage, that peculiar blend of brine and petrichor, but now she would forever associate it with Thalia.

Seifer stepped up beside her, the strap of his bag slung across his chest, and he laid an arm around her shoulders as she watched Squall be wheeled inside the Ragnarok.

"You kicked ass today," he said.

It was a huge compliment coming from him, but it physically hurt to hear it. Failure took all the punch out of his praise.

He pressed a kiss to her temple and it took everything in her not to cry.

"You did good," he promised and took her bag, slung the strap over his shoulder and slipped his hand into hers. "Come on. Let's get him settled in and then you're taking a nap."

Ellone didn't argue, but she doubted she'd be able to sleep. As weary as she was, she was too keyed up and too worried about Squall. He would heal physically, but she had her doubts about his mental health. He was much more sensitive than he let on and the damage Thalia had inflicted went much deeper than the scars she'd left behind on his skin. He would need to be rebuilt from the ground up.

Seifer didn't let go of her hand until they boarded. It was a simple thing, a show of support, but it meant more to her than he knew. As she watched him give orders to the team, she saw less of the arrogant and entitled man she'd reacquainted herself with two years ago, and more of the confident, driven leader he could have been for SeeD if fate and a bad attitude hadn’t intervened.

Either he'd changed in the last two years, or her perception of him had changed. It was tough to tell which, but she had always believed his bravado a mask he wore to hide his vulnerable side. He was not a man inclined to kindness or compassion, but she'd seen flickers of it here and there, moments where he showed it through small, seemingly insignificant gestures.

Whatever happened now would depend on Thalia. If she had drowned, this was the end of their partnership. For as stressful and wearying as the experience had been for the both of them, it wasn’t so easy to walk away.

Ellone wondered if he felt the same.

* * *

In his bunk aboard the Ragnarok, Seifer opened the bottle of whiskey that Laguna had been thoughtful enough to bring, his back against the wall and knees drawn toward his chest. Unable to sleep after such a long emotional day, he should have welcomed the chance to rest, but closing his eyes was impossible. Every time he tried, all he saw was a possessed Edea looming over him, calling him back into her waiting arms. Promising him things he desperately wanted but knew she would never deliver.

He knew it was just an illusion, but it stirred up things he thought he’d buried a long time ago. If he went to sleep, he would dream of power and blood and wake up screaming and sick.

The alcohol would ward off bad dreams if he consumed enough. The hangover wasn't worth it, but he poured a measure into a plastic cup and sat in contemplation of Squall's sorry state.

He'd witnessed all of two minutes of Laguna's reunion with Squall before he'd had to leave. Laguna's weeping had been too much to take. Not because he judged the man for being sentimental, but because he realized there was no one who would have greeted him that way if he'd been in Squall's shoes. He doubted anyone would have bothered to look.

What came next, they would discuss once they got to Esthar. For now, Squall's health was of greater importance, even when faced with the possibility that Blackheart was still alive. Time would tell, but there was a good chance she'd drowned. If she hadn't, she would make herself known soon enough.

Seifer downed the contents of his glass and poured a second as a soft knock at the door echoed through the room.

“Go the fuck away.”

The knock came again. Seifer ignored it.

“It’s me,” Ellone called. “Can I come in?”

Seifer sighed.

“Go to bed, El." 

Ellone slipped inside and closed the door behind her. She leaned back against it, her eyes on the glass of whiskey in Seifer's hand. She said nothing as he lifted it to his lips, took a swallow, lowered it, and watched her in return.

Courage was not something that could be taught. Her actions today had been reckless and driven by anger, but Seifer could not deny she had guts to spare. Over the years, he'd seen bigger, stronger men run from smaller threats than Thalia Blackheart. Had Seifer not stopped her, Ellone would have jumped.

And Seifer would have jumped after her.

"They get Squall settled in?" he asked.

"He's sleeping."

"Laguna stop crying yet?"

"No," Ellone said. "Don't you dare judge him for that."

"I'm not."

He took a sip of his whiskey as Ellone pushed away from the door and slid into the bunk beside him.

"You should be asleep," he scolded.

She took the glass from his hand and swallowed the remainder in one go.

"Help yourself," he said and snatched it back. "And since when do you drink?"

"I think the occasion warrants it, don't you?"

He lifted the bottle and drank his share directly from it, as Ellone closed her eyes and settled back against the wall. Tears slipped from beneath her closed lids and down her cheeks.

Seifer set the bottle aside and hooked a finger under her chin, turning her face to his. Her chin quivered, her face crumpled, the stress of the day finally setting in.

“He looks like a corpse, Seifer,” she said. "He doesn't think I'm real."

Seifer pulled her against his chest and slid his arms around her. She seemed to collapse into him, shaking with near silent sobs.

After searching for just shy of two years, it must have been cathartic to let go. It didn't last long, but it was intense. The harder she cried, the tighter he held on. When her tears ran dry, he loosened his hold, but didn't release her. 

"You should get some sleep," he said.

She pulled back and ground at her eyes with the heels of her hands. Her face and eyes were red, and she seemed ashamed to be caught losing control. It occurred to him that the only tears he’d seen out of her all this time were the ones forced out of her by seizures.

He shifted back into the pillows and stretched out on the narrow mattress, leaving room for her beside him.

"Come here."

Ellone watched him. Uncertainty replaced her sorrow.

After everything they’d been through, and the endless days and nights of sharing rooms, after cleaning her up after Thalia’s attacks, she didn’t trust him?

"Or don't," he muttered. "Either way, you need to sleep."

As he closed his eyes, the linens rustled, the bed dipped, and Ellone eased into the space beside him. She let her head rest against his folded elbow, close but not close enough for Seifer's liking. He pulled her closer and tucked her against his chest, seeking the comfort he couldn’t bring himself to ask for.

She was asleep in minutes, as he expected she would be. Gently, so as not to wake her, he brushed his lips over her forehead and let his own eyes fall shut as a steady, but now familiar buzzing filled his head.

It wasn’t Squall’s experience he saw this time.

It was the location Seifer recognized first, then the small girl strapped to a gurney. Velcro restraints wrapped around her wrists and ankles, a rubberized mouthpiece clamped between her teeth. Wires and tubes extended from her limbs and a series of monitors beside the bed displayed indecipherable graphs and charts.

Tears slipped from young Ellone's closed eyes and her hands clenched tight as she trembled with what Seifer assumed was pain. A thin, close lipped whine came from her throat, and she exhaled in short bursts of breath through her nose.

"Pain threshold," the older Ellone said inside his head. "They did this for hours, to see if I could connect while under stress."

Little Ellone's mouth opened around the mouthpiece and her shrill scream ripped Seifer's heart in two. She thrashed on the mattress, her wild eyes shimmering with tears.

He could handle pretty much anything, but not this. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't.

She was so small and frail. She couldn’t fight back or escape. She was just a kid.

The room flickered like the power was about to fail, then the scene changed. The younger Ellone lay curled on her side in a narrow bunk, needle marks in the crook of her arms and on the backs of her hands. There were no toys, no amenities to make it pleasant for a child's stay. She stared emptily at the wall. Her hair was dull and tangled.

"Elle-"

"Just watch."

The scene changed, and tiny Ellone stood in the middle of a large room facing off against a Belhelmel. She dodged its attacks, panting heavily as it chased her. There was nowhere for her to hide. In the booth above, Odine shouted orders at her.

"Use your mind, Ellone! You can stop zis attack, but you must use your power."

"I can't," she cried. "I told you. It only works on people!"

"Monsters don't have memories the way we do," the older Ellone explained as the younger one ran short of breath and energy and balled herself into a corner. "It doesn't work on them."

To Seifer, that fact seemed like it would be obvious.

Across the room, little Ellone screamed as the Belhelmel turned furious and spun toward her. Its blade cut deep into her arm and blood streamed in rivers over her pale skin.

Ellone dreamed him through a series of things, of having to try to use her power against an armed Estharian soldier in full uniform, and of spending hours upon hours hooked up to machines as her brain waves were charted and mapped and analyzed. Of attempting escape, only to be locked in a dark room for days.

In Seifer's mind, there was no justification for doing this to a child, and he vowed that some night, not long from now, Odine would leave his office and never be seen again. Maybe some hunters might stumble upon his bones out in the desert some years later, maybe they wouldn't.

Seifer didn't care about invaluable research or scientific progress. If this was the cost, it wasn't worth it.

Everything shifted again and when Seifer's vision cleared, he was back in the bunk on the Ragnarok. Ellone was still in his arms, but she was awake, watching him.

Seifer was all too aware of her now. She'd showed him one of the most painful and terrifying parts of her life, and for Seifer, it was significant that she'd taken down that wall. It was a show of trust and that _meant_ something.

He combed his fingers through her hair and wondered how someone so small could be so damn strong.

She lowered her eyes from his face, and with a soft sigh, seemed to wither.

"Elle. Look at me."

When she did, her pain and sorrow were as raw as a fresh wound. After all these years, those wounds hadn’t even begun to heal.

On pure impulse, he angled his head down and kissed her as if that could erase all her bad memories, as if it could make up for her stolen childhood, her lost family and her loneliness. He'd never needed or wanted to do that for anyone before, but he desperately wanted to be the thing that fixed her.

Maybe it was arrogant of him to think that he could be a bandage, that this would help, but it was all he had in him to give. Words sure as hell wouldn’t work.

She kissed him back eagerly, her body pressed against his and not an inch of space left between them.

It was like throwing explosives on a bonfire. Zero to sixty in five seconds, a heavy and hot pulse in his veins. Desire burned through him like wildfire and stamped out any semblance of rational thought. He didn’t care that someone could walk in at any second, or that they might be heard. Caution be damned, he wanted this.

When his fingers found their way under the hem of her shirt, Ellone pushed him away.

Seifer wasn't sure why she'd stopped him. There was no sign he'd done something wrong or had gone too far. She didn’t look angry or offended. Just tired.

Very, _very_ tired.

"I'm not saying no," she said. "Just, not now."

Seifer didn't question it, as frustrating as it was. He could be a royal asshole about a lot of things, but not about this, and truth be told, he was running on fumes himself. With a shaky sigh, he settled into the pillow and let a hand rest on her hip. She offered no explanation or excuse, but she didn't leave him, either.

"Hey Elle?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm very fond of you."

Her lips curved into a satisfied smile.

“Good,” she said.

“But I would have been pretty pissed if I’d had to jump in after you.”

“But you would have.”

“Yeah. I’m an idiot like that,” he said. “Now shut your trap and go to sleep.”


	16. Chapter 16

Squall Leonhart had gone into captivity at a lean but muscular 190 pounds and had come out weighing only 135. Every one of one of his organs was damaged in some way, some on the verge of failure. The administration of potions, fluids, and nutrients would aid in repairing the damage, but Ellone feared it might be too little too late.

Ellone barely left Squall’s bedside, even to sleep, afraid that if she left him, he would no longer be with them when she came back.

“You gotta get some sleep, Elle,” Seifer said. “I’ll stay with him if it makes you feel better.”

Ellone watched the slow, uneven rise and fall of Squall’s chest as he breathed and shook her head.

“I’d rather you get me some coffee instead,” she said. “If you don’t mind.”

Seifer’s sigh was exasperated, but he squeezed the back of her neck and left the room.  On the bed, Squall twitched and his eyelids fluttered but he didn't wake.  

It had been like this for nearly three days.  Squall, who had been more or less aware when they found him had barely woken for more than ten minutes at a time.  The doctors told her it might be a while before he was able to stay alert for longer than just a few minutes.  His body was healing, and it took every bit of his energy to process the nourishment he was currently receiving through an IV.  

They'd been instructed not to ask questions or press him for information while he was awake.  Causing him additional stress while he was still in critical condition could have dire consequences. 

For Ellone, this was a difficult thing to ask. She wanted to talk to him, to reassure him that once he was well, he would be welcomed home with open arms and wonderful news, but for Squall, everything, it seemed, could be a trigger.  The very mention of Rinoa's name or home or any part of his life before upset him.  He believed everything was a lie.  Even the room he was in was just another illusion, no matter how many promises Ellone made that this was really happening. 

When Seifer returned, it was with a fresh-brewed pot of coffee and a plate of finger sandwiches left over from some Palace function earlier in the day.  He set the plate on the table beside her and nudged it closer.

“Eat something."

Ellone wasn’t hungry, but she could not remember her last full meal.  She dutifully picked up a cucumber sandwich and stuck it in her mouth, chewed and swallowed without really tasting it, chose something else from the plate and ate that too.

Satisfied, Seifer poured her a mug of coffee, added cream and sugar and placed it in her hand.

He’d gotten it exactly right. But why shouldn’t he after two years? She knew how he liked his coffee too. Black. Two sugars.

She knew a lot about what he liked and what he didn’t.

He hated pancakes and breakfast foods in general, but would eat an entire pack of bacon if he could get away with it. He talked in his sleep. He kept his nails clipped, shaved religiously, and visited the barber once a month. Looks and personal hygiene were more important to him than others might suspect. He had expensive taste in everything, from clothing to electronic gadgets to food and alcohol.

On the surface, he was a conceited, pretentious ass and he owned that side of himself without apology, but the last two years had showed her that he was also capable of kindness and compassion and concern for someone besides himself, but only if it concerned something or someone important to him. 

At the moment, his concern was directed at Squall instead of her for a change. He stood at Squall’s bedside, frowning at his hollow cheeks and sunken eyes.

“His color’s better today,” Ellone said, though it wasn't completely true.

“Only if you compare it to a corpse.”

Ellone cut her eyes at him but there was no meanness in his face, only a touch of diluted rage.

“He’ll pull through,” Ellone said. “After everything he survived, he has to.”

Seifer said nothing and settled back in his chair, stretched, yawned, and closed his eyes.

“Go to bed if you’re tired,” she said.

“I’m good here."

Ten minutes later, Seifer was snoring.

On the bed, Squall murmured something and stared at the ceiling, watching something Ellone couldn’t see. She wondered if it was a holdover from captivity, or if Thalia had survived and this was a continuation of the torture he'd endured while in her care.  

That thought chilled her.

For hours, Ellone sat at Squall’s side, analyzing his complexion, his breathing, watching the blip of his pulse on the monitor and held her breath every time it seemed irregular. There were so many tubes in his arms, so many machines keeping him alive, and she was so, so scared for the days and months ahead.

She saw the sun come up, watched the doctors and nurses check Squall’s vitals and change out bags of fluids, and declined breakfast when Laguna arrived with a plate of eggs, oatmeal, and bacon. Seifer woke at the scent of food and helped himself to the bacon.

“How is he?” Laguna asked the doctor. “Any change? Is he getting better?”

“Stable,” Dr. Feynard said. “He’s responding well to the fluids but I’m still concerned about his heart.”

Ellone had noticed an irregularity on the monitor from time to time, a slight hesitation every fourth beat.

“What does that mean, Doc?” Laguna asked. “Is that bad?”

“It might resolve itself in time,” Dr. Feynard said. “It might be permanent. It’s too soon to say.”

Laguna parked himself in the chair beside Ellone, dejected by the news, or lack thereof. He touched the matted strands of hair at the top of Squall’s head and sighed.

“We should do something about this,” he said. "Think you can fix it?"

When they’d found him, Ellone had been so relieved he was alive, she hadn’t noticed his hair was an overlong mess of tangles, snares and clumps. It wasn’t until after they’d returned to Esthar and the medics bathed him and washed his hair that she saw what a mess it was. Even then, she was more concerned with whether or not he would live than she was with the state of his hair.

“I’ll give it a try,” Ellone said. “But I don’t want to hurt him, either.”

“I know you’ll do your best,” Laguna said.

Ellone spent the next two hours attempting to brush out the knots with a comb and some watered down conditioner. Squall barely reacted, save a wince every now and then when she pulled too hard.

It seemed important to Laguna that Squall’s hair be saved. Maybe it reminded him of Raine. Maybe it was a way to keep another piece of him from being lost. Ellone understood why both might matter to him.

But, there was no saving it. The strands were so entangled and matted, the only solution was to cut it off.

“I’ll go find a razor,” Seifer said. “You want some fresh coffee, El?”

More coffee was the last thing she needed, but she nodded, unable to bear the thought of leaving Squall’s side. Even for a second.

When Seifer returned, he offered the electric razor to Laguna.

“You wanna do it?”

Laguna shook his head, his eyes already filling with tears.

“I can’t.”

Seifer plugged the razor in, applied the blades to Squall’s scalp and shaved a long stripe from forehead to crown. Squall didn’t even react. Ellone wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. The tangled strands fell away in clumps, revealing a vivid red rash and a series of small sores all over the back of his head.

Ellone felt sick. They should have done this days ago. Those sores should have been attended to.

“I can’t watch this,” Laguna said and bolted from the room.

Seifer paused to watch him go, then cast a glance at Ellone. She couldn’t read his expression.

“Don’t judge him,” Ellone said.

“Did I say anything?”

“He feels guilty,” she said. “So do I.”

Seifer broke eye contact and tossed a final clump of hair into the trash beside the bed.

“We did what we could.”

Ellone’s chest tightened and it was hard to breathe. It felt like she was drowning. She closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath, held it for a count of five, then exhaled. She could hear the clock ticking beneath the steady beep of Squall’s heart rate monitor.  

“El?”

She opened her eyes to Seifer’s stony face, two feet from hers. He laid a hand against her knee and something between them sizzled like an electric current. She could feel the heat radiating off his palm.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “Just... I'm exhausted.”

Seifer pulled back and stood up. He pushed a hand through his hair and turned back to Squall, who stared emptily at the ceiling.

“You should try to sleep, Elle.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Sitting here forcing yourself to stay awake isn’t going to help him.”

Ellone disagreed.

“I don’t want him to be alone.”

“He’s not,” Seifer said. “And I kinda doubt he even knows you’re here.”

Ellone knew he didn’t mean to hurt her feelings, but it did. Squall had barely acknowledged any of them, but she thought that on some level he knew they were there. She hoped that her presence was a comfort to him.

She closed her eyes again and took another slow breath. Sleep tugged at her and it was difficult to open her eyes again.

“I’ll sleep here,” she said.

“You’re gonna sleep in a bed,” he said. He turned around and held out his hand. “Come on, El. Don’t force me to carry you out of here, because I will.”

Ellone didn’t have the strength to fight him this time. She took his hand and followed him out of the room, down the hall, and into her private suite. He pushed her toward the bed and she sat, kicked off her slippers, and slumped into the pillows.

Seifer covered her with the blanket and dragged a hand over her hair.

“I’m gonna stay until I’m sure you’re out,” Seifer said.  

Ellone sighed and settled in, thinking of how nice it was to fall asleep next to him on the Ragnarok, of how she'd drawn strength from his presence.

They hadn’t talked about that. They’d both avoided the subject, but it hung between them, an unspoken longing that neither could address or acknowledge.

She patted the empty space beside her.

“Then stay here.”

She closed her eyes, felt the bed dip under his weight, the press of his body against her back, and the warmth of his breath against her shoulder. 

And Ellone slept.  

There were no dreams.

 

* * *

 

With his hair gone, Squall's frailty was even more apparent. His sunken eyes were too big, his cheekbones too prominent. To Ellone, he looked a like a baby bird without feathers.

He was still mostly unresponsive when Ellone or Laguna talked to him, but his vitals improved and day by day, he looked less and less on the ragged edge of death. At the end of his second week in Esthar, Ellone started reading to him. Sometimes, it seemed he was listening, other times he was vacant, but she kept on, chapter by chapter, day after day.

All the while, Seifer sat at a table on the other side of the room with his laptop, working on some sort of research for Kiros to pass the time. They didn’t talk about the growing tension between them. It didn't seem right under the circumstances.  

Time moved too slow and Squall’s progress moved even slower. He gained weight. Color came back to his cheeks, but he refused to eat.

“Just one bite, Squall,” Laguna said. “That’s all I ask.”

He held out a spoon full of tapioca pudding, hopeful that it would entice Squall to switch from fluids to solid foods.

Squall turned his face away.

“How about butterscotch?” Laguna asked. “I’ve got chocolate too.”

“No.”

“Do you want something else?” Laguna asked. “I can make you a sandwich. Or maybe some soup?”

Squall closed his eyes and refused to speak.

“The doctor says the sooner you start eating, the faster you’ll get your strength back,” Laguna said. “I know you don’t like being stuck in this bed, and I know you want to go home to Rinoa and the kids.”

Squall lay still as a statue. He opened his eyes and fixed them on the ceiling.

“You should see them,” Laguna said. “Ella’s gotten so tall and pretty. And Ari.”

Laguna teared up, sniffled, and wiped his eyes.

“He’s beautiful, Squall,” Laguna said. “You would be so proud. Of both of them.”

“Stop lying to me."

Laguna sighed and looked to Ellone for direction. She had none to give. She’d already tried talking to him about the kids, about Rinoa, but Squall didn’t want to hear it.

“She can’t hurt you anymore, Son,” Laguna said. “You’re safe.”

Squall put his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. The blip of his heartbeat on the monitor sped up.

Ellone shook her head at Laguna and his face fell, then he sighed and lapsed into silence.

Thalia's fate was no longer a mystery.  Two days ago, the soldiers Seifer had left with her sailboat were found dead. One had drowned, the other had fallen down the stairs and had broken his neck. Both could have been accidents – unfortunate luck and nothing more.

Ellone didn't believe that.  She could sense that this was not over, but if Thalia was alive, she had not made herself known any other way.

Seifer poured over the documents that had been found on the sailboat, but there wasn't much information in them. Most appeared to be forged account ledgers for shipments that never occurred, according to the port registries, but there was also a pile of childlike drawings of butterflies and spiders and monsters and lightning bolts.

For a while, Ellone flipped through these drawings over and over again as if the answers could be found in the crayon sketches, but all she saw was the echo of a lost little girl, destroyed and turned monstrous by her own gift. Page by page, she examined them, in search of insight that didn’t come.

As she set aside a thin stack of the drawings, she could feel Seifer’s eyes on her from across the room, but when she looked up, he cast his eyes away, back to the pages in front of him. Her heart raced, and she tried not to think about what might be happening between them. She tried not to think about that kiss.

Her past lovers had been cautious and sweet, and there was something to be said for that, but not one of them had kissed her so recklessly, even at their most passionate. Seifer kissed like he wanted to touch her soul, to consume her.  The way he looked at her when he thought she didn't notice was an echo of that.  There was a quiet hunger in his eyes, a longing he did little to hide.

There had been no opportunities to explore where it might lead.  The only time they were alone together was when Seifer forced her to go to bed, and by then she was too tired to keep her eyes open.  The rest of the time they were surrounded by people.  The medical team, Laguna, Kiros, and sometimes Ward.

When the physical therapist arrived, Ellone realized she’d been staring at the same crayon drawing of a demon for more than ten minutes, trying not to think of Seifer and failing miserably.

“How are we doing today?” he asked.

“A little better,” Laguna said. “Still not eating though.”

Squall curled up into a ball when the therapist touched his leg.

“Why don’t you just kill me already?” Squall said. "Why won't you stop?"

“We’re trying to help you get back on your feet, Squall,” the therapist said. “We’ll go slow, like last time, okay? We’ll work your leg muscles first, and then practice sitting up.”

“Please just let me die,” Squall said. “Please. Let me die.”

Ellone couldn’t take this. It was too much.

Near tears, she retreated to the small atrium in the middle of the Palace, where the clean air would help her reset and calm down.  The last thing she wanted was to start crying in front of everyone, especially not Squall.  He needed her to be strong, and tears helped nothing.  They wouldn't help him get better, they would not help her feel better about any of this.

The worst part of this was knowing that what Squall needed, she couldn't give him.  There was nothing she could do to erase what had been done, and nothing she could say to convince him that the worst was over.  

Laguna told her to be patient, but patience was hard when the only improvement she saw was a bit of color in his cheeks.

Ten minutes later, Seifer found her beside the fountain and sat with a tired grunt.  He stretched out his legs and flicked a small rock into the water.  Ellone watched it sink beneath the surface, where it disappeared into a tangle of water lily roots.  

“You okay?” he asked.

"I want my brother back," Ellone said to the surface of the water, where the ripples distorted her reflection. "I thought saving him would be enough."

"Give him some time," he said. "He's been through hell."

"I know that," she said. "Believe me. I know. It's just… I don't even know if he's really in there anymore. He won't talk, he won't listen, he won't try to help himself get better. I'm starting to think he's _gone_ and that saving him wasn't the best thing we could have done for him.”

Seifer put his hand over hers and squeezed.

"Stop," he said. “You know that’s bullshit.”

"What if he's too broken to come back?"

"He might be, El," he said. "He might never be okay and you need to prepare yourself for that."

"I feel like I failed him," she said. "Like, if I'd looked closer or tried harder, we could have found him sooner."

"He's _alive_ , goddammit," Seifer said. "That’s more than any of us expected.”

Ellone dropped her chin onto her folded arms and closed her eyes. She breathed in the scent of chlorinated water and the fragrance of wisteria and wished she could just cry out all her frustration and anger and sorrow, but the tears wouldn’t come.

"Maybe we need to take him home," Seifer said.

"He doesn't believe _we're_ real," Ellone said. "If we're not real to him, Rinoa and the kids won't be either.”

"His family might be what he needs, El," Seifer said. He reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "That and a swift, hard kick in the ass. That PT guy is a wuss."

Ellone looked at him then, remembering how tough a teacher he was. No excuses, no mercy. 

"Maybe you should be his therapist," she said with a soft smile. "Hyne knows, he's not listening to anyone else."

"Maybe," he said. His eyes fell on her and his expression softened. "What about you? How are you holding up?"

"Mostly, I just want to cry," she said. "Every time I look at him, I see him the way he was when he was three. Before I had to leave, before SeeD. And I think about all the other things we all could have become."

Seifer shifted toward her and dragged a hand over her hair until it reached the nape of her neck. He clasped it lightly and turned her face to his.

"No sense in thinking about _what if_ ," he said. "I don't know about Squall, but I doubt I would have turned out any different. From what I remember, I was kind of an asshole as a kid."

Ellone smiled into her arms as his fingers massaged the back of her neck. The tension melted out of her as his thumb moved in circles and worked the knots out of her muscles.

"You were," she said lifted her head. "But you were sweet back then, in your own way. And you laughed more than the others. Always knew exactly what you wanted."

"I bet there was hell to pay when I didn't get it."

"Everyone knew when you were unhappy."

"So, not much has changed."

"Are you happy now?" she asked. "With your life as it is? With the things you've done?"

"More or less," he said. "There are choices I wish I hadn't made, and there’s nothing I can do about that now. I don't waste my time thinking about how it could have been different. I'd go crazy if I did."

She supposed he was right, but that didn't stop her from longing for a different future for all of them.

"I just wanted better for all of you," she said.

“You know some of the things you want to change or wish were different had to happen,” Seifer said. “And wishing you could change it doesn’t help Squall. Or you.”

Seifer squeezed the back of her neck again and released her. Ellone returned her attention to the fountain and the cool ripple of water across the surface. If she could just focus on that, and on the peaceful beauty of the atrium, she might find her footing again.

“You’ve been cooped up in that room too long, El,” Seifer said. “What would you say to – ”

Her vision blurred, doubled, then dissolved into a whorl of color. A brilliant pain shot through her head and she cried out, paralyzed by its intensity.  It was like her skull had spontaneously split in half.

"Elle?"

She couldn't answer him. The pain had stolen her voice and as darkness encroached on her vision, she blinked at a much altered Seifer.

The face looking back at her was pale and sickly, his lips chapped.  Blood streamed from the corner of his mouth. The light faded from the day as if a false twilight had settled in, the plants around them shriveled and turned brown, the water in the fountain went stagnant and still. Spiderwebs coated every surface and fluttered in the breeze.

Behind Seifer, a woman. Pale hair, silver eyes. She dragged a hand over Seifer's head and caressed his cheek lovingly. Her nails left ribbons of blood on his skin.

"You should have killed me when you had the chance," Thalia said, her smile cruel. "But you couldn't, could you? Because we're not that different, you and me. I am what you could have become if you weren't such a coward  You understand what I want."

"We're nothing alike," Ellone said. Her vision blurred, smeared with black on the edges. "I could never do what you've done, and I will never understand."

"You're just too afraid to do what I've done, to become what you were meant to be," Thalia said. "You spent your whole life hiding from what you are, but you got a taste of it, what it feels like to hate, didn't you?  You hate me because I am what you want to be."

Pain flared through her head again, as if something inside her skull was trying to get out.

"I don't hate you," Ellone hissed. "I feel sorry for you."

"That's a lie," Thalia said. "You hate me for destroying your precious baby brother. You hate me because I'm stronger than you are. Don't lie to yourself. You want to see me bleed."

That was the truth.  She did want to see Thalia Blackheart bleed.  She wanted to be the one to make her bleed. 

Ellone shot to her feet and launched herself at Thalia. She didn't have a weapon, she was half incapacitated and nearly blinded by the pain inside her skull, but she didn't care. She wanted blood and vengance and she wanted it now. She wanted payback for Squall, for the torment and pain Thalia had inflicted and continued to inflict upon him and his family.

Hard, strong arms caught her around the waist and Ellone howled as she fought against them, unwilling to give up her chance a second time.

"Elle, stop!" Seifer growled. "There's nothing there."

At the sound of his voice, her vision cleared and she found herself caught up in Seifer's fierce grip, staring at nothing but bright sunshine and healty green plants and the clean, cool scent of the fountain.

Thalia was gone. The spiderwebs were gone and the day was bright and sunny again.

"She was here."

In the corner, a single moth beat itself against the wall and the glass roof, seeking escape.  Ellone focused on it, certain there was a human eye embedded in its wing.  She blinked, and it was gone. 

"No, El," Seifer said. "You checked out."

"I didn't. She was here."

"You were gone."

Ellone sagged against him and shivered. What he said must have been true. He was not haggard, pale and on the verge of death.  The tropical foliage was not crisp and dry.  There were no cobwebs.

It was just an illusion.  A very convincing one, but none of it was real.  That was a bad sign.  It meant Thalia could get inside her head, even if only for a moment.  And a lot could happen in the blink of an eye.

"She's not dead," Ellone breathed. "She's not dead, Seifer."

He let her go and turned her around to face him. His frown deepened and he reached out, touched her upper lip and his fingers came away red with blood.

"Let's go get you cleaned up," he said. "We'll worry about her later."

In her room, Seifer sat her on the edge of the bed. He went to the bathroom and returned with a damp wash cloth and crouched in front of her, taking it upon himself to wipe away the blood. His hands were gentle, but his eyes were troubled, angry.

There was no pain, but Ellone couldn't stop shaking. She’d hoped finding Squall would be the end of this, but her intuition proved correct.  Thalia was alive, and she had no interest in letting go or moving on.  She would not stop until she either got what she wanted, or Ellone ended her life.  

Maybe that was what she wanted.  Maybe. If so, Ellone would be happy to do her that favor.

When Seifer was done tending her face, he sat back on his heels as Ellone focused on her breathing and tried to get her trembling under control.

"If she's alive, you're not safe," he said.

"Neither are you. She made that very clear."

"Probably safe to assume we're both on her shit list."

"What about Squall?"

"There's not much more she can do to him," Seifer said. "She got what she wanted."

"Did she?" Ellone wondered. "Cid's been dead for over a year. This isn't about money anymore."

Seifer nodded and tossed the washcloth aside. He sat on the bed beside her and draped an arm around her shoulders. Ellone closed her eyes as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

"We'll get our chance to take her down," he said. "She's over-confident. She'll make a mistake."

"We have to find her first," Ellone said. She paused and dropped her gaze to the floor. "Seifer… Am I like her?"

Seifer's arm tightened around her shoulders and he brought her into a careful embrace. 

"You're nothing like her."

"How do you know? How can you be sure?"

"If you have to ask, you're not."

He sounded so confident, but she wasn’t so sure. She wasn’t sure about anything. Nothing except the fact that she did not want to think about any of this for a while. Not Squall. Not Thalia. Not the past, which could not be changed.

Ellone never expected Seifer to be the calm in the midst of a storm, but in that moment, he was.She wished she could borrow some of his confidence, some of his strength, just for a little while.

She lifted her chin to look him in the eye, only to be confronted with how close his face was to hers.

And she couldn’t help herself. She raised her lips to his.

He didn’t hesitate to kiss back. His arms tightened around her, bringing her closer, but this time, his mouth was soft against hers, gentle and undemanding.

That was not what Ellone wanted. She wanted the fire from before, not this unwelcome tenderness.

He broke away and laid a palm against her cheek.

“You’re not like her.”

Damn him.

It was escape she needed, to feel something besides fear and worry and anger. She’d counted on him living up to his unspoken promises, sooner rather than later, to be an antidote to all the poisonous feelings she'd left bottled up inside.

Of all times to let her down.  

Frustrated, she sighed heavily and brushed his hand away.

"We shouldn't do this here," he said. "Unless you want me dead."

"Laguna wouldn't kill you. He likes you enough to pretend nothing's going on," Ellone promised. "Though, Kiros is _very_ protective of me. But don't worry, the last guy I was seeing made a full recovery."

"That's not a mood killer at all."

"I'm teasing," she said. "Mostly."

He bit his lip as he looked back at her, too handsome for his own good, and so self-conscious, he looked like a scolded schoolboy instead of the cocksure ass she knew him to be. The combination was irresistible. Dangerous.

Ellone brushed her fingers over his cheek and recognized the flare of _want_ in his eyes.  She was shocked he was able to hold back and not take the offer she'd laid on the table.

"You sure you want to cross this line?" he asked.

"We've already crossed it," she said. "Haven't we?"

He pushed his fingers through her hair and kissed the corners of her mouth. One hand slid up her side, fingers splayed against her back as his mouth moved over her jaw.  

Ellone stopped thinking.  She dragged his mouth to hers and kissed him hard, wanting to push him down into the mattress and have her way with him.  

"Come home with me," he murmured. "I'll make you dinner."

His request didn't make sense for a moment.  She pulled back and stared at him.

"What?"

"Have dinner with me," he said.  

Ellone hesitated. She didn't want to leave the Palace, in case something happened, but it had been two weeks. Squall was no longer in critical condition, nor was he in danger of relapse. It was Thalia she feared, and how easily she might find her way inside.

But, god did she need a break from all this.  She needed it bad.  

"She wouldn't be stupid enough to try," he said as if reading her mind. "And you need a night off. I can get a bottle of wine, we’ll hang out, watch a shitty movie. You can sleep in the guest room if you want."

"By make dinner, you mean take-out?" she asked. "Sandwiches?"

"No," he said, frowning. "I'll have you know, I'm a great cook."

"I feel like I should be afraid," Ellone said. "Is this going to end with a visit from the fire department?"

Seifer gripped the back of her neck lightly and pressed his lips to her ear.

"You ask too many questions," he said. “ _Have diner with me_.”

All of this was a bad idea, but in these last two years, they’d formed a bond that was hard to deny and unlike any connection she’d forged with anyone else before. He was the first person to truly acknowledge that she wasn’t as fragile as she seemed, and that meant something to her. No one had ever made her feel as though she had it within her to fight back until Seifer put a weapon in her hand and insisted that she could. And that meant something to her too.

His expression was soft, boyish, and sincere. Whether it was a put-on or not, Ellone couldn’t say, but it wasn’t as if she had to marry him or even commit to anything. She doubted he wanted that and she couldn't make any promises either.  Her life was too transient and she'd long ago learned that nothing was for keeps.  

This too would end. Eventually.

“Say yes.”

"Aren't you afraid I'm going to change my mind?" she wondered. “About whatever this is.”

"If you change your mind, so be it,” he said.

“I thought you’d be sick of me by now.”

“If I was sick of you, I’d tell you to fuck off and never darken my doorstep again.”

Ellone smiled a little. She had no doubt he’d cast her out of his world in a heartbeat if he didn’t want her around. He never did have patience for people whose company he didn’t enjoy.

"Okay,” she said. “I'll have dinner with you."

 

* * *

 

As easy as it would have been to lock the door and throw caution to the wind, there were a few things Seifer needed to wrap up before the end of the day. If he got distracted, Kiros would come looking for him, and he would be found because Kiros always somehow knew where anyone was at any given moment.

The last place Seifer wanted to be discovered was in a compromising position with a woman who more or less had 3 adopted fathers, all with extensive military training, two of which had little remorse about injuring or killing when it was necessary.  Laguna might turn the other cheek, but Kiros and Ward would make sure he paid if he stepped a toe out of line as far as Ellone was concerned.  

Five years ago, he might have done it anyway, just for the thrill of it, and for no other reason than that Ellone was Squall's sister. He would have happily risked a busted lip and a broken nose, just to see the look on Squall's face, but circumstances had changed.  

After everything they'd been through, after two years of sharing rooms and months upon months of each other's company, he genuinely liked and respected Ellone Loire. She was one of a very small number of people who accepted him for who and what he was, and even more important, she knew what made him tick, sometimes to a terrifying degree. He couldn’t even say that about his closest friends.  Even if they’d remained loyal through the worst, he never felt either of them truly understood his motivations.  They were just along for the ride, for a time. 

Things had changed over the years.  They'd gone in opposite directions.  They remained friends, at a distance, and it only now occurred to him that he desperately missed the companionship, the closeness of having others to share his life with.  He'd grown fairly close to the old dude squad, but it wasn't the same.  Laguna fancied himself a father figure, Ward didn't talk, and Kiros was more of an aloof older brother.  

It wasn't the same.  

And it wasn't as if he could give everything up, move to FH and become a peddler of new-age crap like his friends had.  He would die of boredom in a place like that and would probably have a psychotic episode after having to listen to all the unwashed hippie pacifists go on and on about auras and crystal healing. He missed them, but things were different.

That didn't stop him from wanting it back.  Being around these people showed him how far people were prepared to go for those they cared about.  Ellone, she would have moved heaven and earth for her brother.  Laguna, though he ran away from the harder parts, was willing to spare no expense.  

Seifer wanted to matter that much to someone.  He wanted people around him who would give a damn if his life were in danger.  Someone worth fighting for.

Becoming physically involved with Ellone was dangerous, and he risked more than a black eye by going there, but for the first time in a long time, he _cared_. And truly caring about someone besides himself meant she had the power to hurt him. It also meant that he was still capable of feeling something.  It meant he wasn't a complete monster.  

He looked forward to the end of the day with a giddy sort of anticipation he hadn’t experienced an a long time. It wasn't so different from the thrill he got before a good fight, and as the hour grew later, he found himself annoyed with the handful of tedious things left to do before he could punch out for the day.

The last item on his list wasn't part of the job, but it was something that needed to be done as soon as possible. He messaged Kiros to check his inbox and locked his office for the day, then rode the elevator up to the Presidential suite.

Squall was as Seifer had left him – half propped up against pillows, his eyes focused on something a thousand miles away. Two weeks of nourishment had done him some good, but he was still too thin and sickly for Seifer’s liking.

He dragged a chair to the side of the bed and sat facing his childhood rival. He wasn't sure what was worse – Squall's physical condition or the distant and haunted look in his eyes. His physical condition would improve in time. It was his mind Seifer wasn't so sure about. More than two weeks of safety, and Squall was still believed that everything around him would disappear, that everyone had the potential to hurt him, that all of it was a lie.  Nothing anyone did or said seemed to convince him otherwise. 

"You still look like shit, Leonhart," Seifer said. "You gotta stop being an idiot about your PT or you’re never gonna get out of this bed."

Squall's face turned toward him but his eyes remained fixed on the wall straight ahead of him for a moment before they focused on Seifer.

“You wanna be a vegetable the rest of your life?” Seifer asked. “You ain’t a wuss. Why’re you acting like one?”

Squall’s attention didn’t waver. His gaze was the sharpest it had been since they’d found him.

"Eventually, you're gonna go home," Seifer said. "I sure as hell don't want to have to carry your ass through the front door."

Squall continued to look at him, but Seifer could tell he was about to shut down again. He didn’t have much time before Squall retreated inside his own head.

"You want your little girl to see you like this?" Seifer asked.

"No."

An answer. That was promising.

"Do you want to go home?"

“I can’t.”

“Bullshit.”

"I don't know what I did," Squall murmured. "I don't know. I didn’t want to, and she won’t forgive me if I did.”

A chill rippled down Seifer’s spine. He had a hunch he knew what that meant. He hoped that hunch was wrong.

"I doubt Rin will care," Seifer said. "She'll be so overcome with joy that you don't actually reside in the SeeD cemetery that she won’t give a shit.”

"You don't understand."

"I understand perfectly," Seifer said. "You're not to blame for what did or didn't happen. Shit probably wasn't real anyway."

Squall's mouth pressed into a thin line and his jaw clenched. At his sides, his hands curled into loose fists.

“It felt real.”

“Yeah, well, that bitch has a way of digging up all the shit you’re afraid of and using it against you,” Seifer said. “And I guarantee none of it is real.”

Seifer leaned forward and nudged Squall’s skinny bicep.

“Anyway, I’m not here to talk about her,” Seifer said. “I’m here to get your lazy ass out of that bed. No excuses.”

"No."

"You’re gonna walk to the door," Seifer said, ignoring his stubborn tone. He lowered the rail on the bed, lifted the sheet, and held back a grimace at the sight of Squall's scrawny legs. "It's fifteen steps from here to the door. That's it. Fifteen steps."

"I can't."

Seifer eased Squall into a sitting position and slid his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Bullshit," Seifer barked. "On your feet. Now."

"Why are you doing this?" Squall asked.

"Because for some stupid fucking reason, you won't do it on your own," Seifer snapped. "Now stand up."

He helped Squall to his feet and Squall swayed, grabbed hold of the bed rail, breathing heavily as he struggled to stay upright.

"Hold onto my arm," Seifer said. "Don't worry about falling. Just take one step at a time."

Squall's grip was weak and Seifer had to put one arm around his back to support him.

He was much, much weaker that Seifer anticipated. He could feel Squall’s muscles tremble as he shuffled one foot forward. A dull sheen of sweat dotted Squall’s brow, a grimace twisted his skeletal face, turning him into a dead ringer for a Visage.

Though Squall was in visible pain from the effort of sliding a foot forward, Seifer would rather watch him suffer than let him waste away. If he were in Squall's shoes, he'd want someone to bust his ass and force him do it, no matter how belligerent or resistant he was.

"Good," Seifer said. "Now take another. You've got thirteen steps left."

Halfway to the door, Squall paled and his legs buckled, and Seifer was forced to hold him upright.

"Six left," Seifer said. "You got this. Just six more and we’re done. Move your ass.”

Seifer was sure Squall was on the verge of collapse and he reconsidered the trek to the door. At the time, it hadn’t seemed that far, but for Squall, it was the equivalent of asking NORG to run a mile.

“You wanna stop?”

Squall shook his head, and that stubborn look Seifer remembered from their cadet days flickered in his eyes.

“Then walk.”

Step by painstaking step, Squall pushed forward, breathing hard and shaking. Seifer cheered him on the only way he knew how.

“Faster, loser,” Seifer said. “You got three to go.”

Squall gritted his teeth and his fingers dug into Seifer’s arm but he took another step. Then another, and then he sagged against Seifer’s side, shaking so hard Seifer was sure he was going to go down.

“One more.”

"Can't do it," Squall said.

"Move.”

"Can't."

"Pick up your foot and move it, or I will kick your ass so hard you're going to feel my toes on he back of your tongue."

“I hate you.”

"I know," Seifer said. "You’ll thank me later.”

Squall shuffled forward, tagged the wall and sagged against it, breathing hard. Sweat trickled down his brow.

He started to slide toward the floor. Seifer caught him and hauled him back to his feet. The plan had been to make him walk to the wall and back, but there was no way Squall was going to make the second leg of that journey. The effort of those fifteen steps had taken everything out of him.

Seifer was all for pushing past limits, but he decided to have mercy. There was no sense in forcing Squall beyond what he could handle. Not until he was less emotionally fragile. If he got past that hurdle, Squall would bounce back, but today, if Seifer threw any more at him, he might perceive it as more of Thalia’s torture and shut down.

He carried Squall back to the bed, unsettled by how light he was. The doctors said he’d gained weight but Seifer sure as hell couldn’t tell. He doubted Squall weighed much more than Ellone did.

Squall lay limp on the mattress, panting, eyes closed, but there was color in his cheeks. Real color, not the sallow and sickly shade he’d been the last two weeks.

"We're doing that again tomorrow," Seifer said. "Except you'll walk back on your own next time. I don't care how long it takes."

Seifer waited for Squall's agreement but didn't get it. Instead, he got a look of loathing so unlike Squall, Seifer was momentarily taken aback.

"Rin doesn't know I'm alive, does she?"

Seifer sat on the edge of the chair next to the bed. It was the first time Squall had acknowledged Rinoa since they brought him back.

“Not yet,” Seifer said. “You want us to tell her?”

"Maybe I should stay dead."

"Elle and I didn't spend the last two years looking for you so that you could stay dead," Seifer said. "I know you went through hell and your perception of what may or may not be real is fucked up, but you've got a wife and two kids at home and they need you as much as you need them, so stop dicking around feeling sorry for yourself."

"One."

Seifer cringed at the slip, then decided he didn't care. Now was as good a time as any to break the news and shielding him from the truth would do no one any good. He would find out eventually.

" _Two_ ," Seifer said. "Rinoa was pregnant when you left. You have a son."

Squall tensed and his eyes went wild, searching the room for something that might not have been there.

"His name's Ari. Elle tells me it means _lion_."

"No.”

Squall pressed his hands to his ears and shook his head. Seifer pried them away and hovered over Squall until he opened his eyes.

"You have a family to go home to, no matter what Thalia made you believe," Seifer said. "You hear me? As soon as you're healthy enough, you're going home, so you might as well get used to the idea because if you keep pretending, I'll fly Rinoa up here and _make_ you face it."

Squall struggled weakly against Seifer's restraining hands and tears seeped from the corners of his eyes. 

"I'm sorry you had to hear it from me," Seifer said. "Everyone else thinks you're too fragile to hear the truth, so be grateful I have a little more faith in you."

"It's not real," Squall breathed. "It’s just another lie.”

"Trust me, it's real," Seifer said as he let Squall go. "You'll be all right once the shock wears off. Elle's got pictures when you're ready to see them. All you gotta do is ask."

Seifer waited until Squall's erratic breathing evened before he said anything else.

"It'll get easier, man," Seifer said. "And if you ever want to know if something's real or not, just ask me. I'm not going to sugar coat it or bullshit you.”

"No more," Squall said. "Please, no more. I can’t."

"All right," Seifer agreed. "I got a date, anyway, but I'll be back tomorrow."

_After I bang your sister._

He was tempted to say it out loud, but he didn't. The guy had been traumatized enough for today.


End file.
